


Happiness Made Easy

by Sashataakheru



Category: The Move RPS, The Prisoner (1967)
Genre: Abduction, Amnesia, Body Dysphoria, Caging, Community: au_bigbang, Delusions, Depression, Dreams, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, Murder, Paranoia, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, Sex, Violence, accidental discovery, body swapping, drug-induced coersion, forced disclosure, forced dreaming, memory manipulation, mindfuckage, nonconsensual situations (drug-induced), psychiatric treatments, self-injury/suicide attempt, spies and agents, transgender AU, trauma flashbacks, truth drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Move find themselves in more trouble than they'd anticipated when strange men start following them around. Their manager's not saying anything, and neither is Carl, who seems to know more than he's letting on. When they all end up in The Village, Carl's the only one sane enough to figure out what's going on as he tries to find a way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Made Easy

Ace noticed them first. Strange men in sharp suits who seemed to be following them everywhere. He would see them out of the corner of his eye, slipping into the shadows before he could get a decent look at them, making him doubt whether he'd seen anything at all. Sometimes, he'd see them slip behind a corner, or pass by him effortlessly in the street. Ace tried running, but they were still there.

The first time he noticed them, there was a soft whispering voice in his head that alerted him to the fact he was being followed. Slowly, he turned around, glancing shyly over his shoulder, and he saw the man by a news stand he'd just passed. He wasn't even looking at him. He was talking with another man. But then Ace noticed _him_ glancing over his shoulder, as if he was checking he was still there.

Ace ran. Ace ran like buggery. He ran all the way home and shut himself in his bedroom, quite convinced the world was suddenly out to get him. He had to be a spy. Some sort of Government agent. He'd heard about kids getting targeted by cops. Kids like him. Maybe they'd finally come for him. Trevor had found him there when he came home that evening, but when Ace had tried to tell him what was going on, Trevor didn't believe him. Trevor still didn't believe him. Ace was left on his own, convinced strange men were following him everywhere.

They were usually on their own. Just an ordinary man who appeared to be tailing Ace everywhere. It wasn't always the same man, though, and they made damn sure they didn't stand out so no one would notice them. Ace noticed them though, as if he was the only one who could see them.

Ace became convinced that whoever was following them could read his mind. They would know his secrets, and Ace had plenty of secrets to hide. He started obsessively checking the doors and windows to make sure they were locked, and refused to use the telephone in case it was being tapped. One night, he was even convinced they were trying to talk to him through the radio, and he'd smashed it in a fit of panic. Trevor had come home to find the mess and Ace was huddled in a corner of his bedroom, out of his mind with fear.

* * *

A week later, Ace pulled Trevor into a side street and showed him the man who had been following him that day. This time, Trevor saw him. He looked as real as anyone else. The question then was why someone was following Ace. Trevor tried to settle him down, they did have a gig to play that night, but Ace wouldn't settle. Trevor believed him now, and it fuelled his belief that they were out to get him.

At the gig that night at a ballroom in Coventry, Ace did his best to convince the rest of the band that he wasn't going crazy. Trevor did his best to lend Ace some credibility, but no one believed him. No one believed he wasn't just hallucinating. On stage, Ace saw them in the shadows, surrounding him ominously. He did his best to ignore them as he concentrated on the gig and all their screaming fans. Afterwards, they drove home, and Ace refused to sleep, unwilling to believe there were no men outside waiting for him.

* * *

It continued for weeks. All over the country, no matter where they played, Ace was sure they were being followed and tried to point them out to the rest of the band whenever he saw them, hoping he could convince them he wasn't lying. Trevor, by now, wasn't so sure, and his lack of faith just made Ace push him away. Without Trevor to support his claims, Ace was on his own, growing increasingly more paranoid about strange men following him. It didn't stop him getting high though; it was the only thing that stopped him thinking about it all and let him relax, even if it wasn't as much fun as it used to be. The nightmares had just grown worse and Ace was too scared to get help. He didn't want them knowing his secrets.

* * *

Trevor knew Ace was getting worse. Every trip was worse. Ace would lie there, high as a kite, and Trevor would look down and see his terrified face and wonder what on earth he was seeing. It didn't used to be that way. Ace used to be fine. But his grip on reality was slowly being eroded away, and Trevor wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Ace was constantly having nightmares now, on the rare occasions that he managed to sleep that long. Trevor would be woken by his screaming and Ace crawling into bed with him, and he'd wonder how much longer he could put up with it.

But then Ace kept pointing out all those strange men to Trevor, pulling him into side streets and alleyways, peering out from the house, or seeing someone following them in the car. Ace's paranoia was hard to cope with, but eventually, Trevor had to believe it. He couldn't deny it anymore. He'd seen what Ace had seen and convinced himself it was no hallucination. That realisation was not at all comforting. He spent hours with Ace one night, trying to work out why they were being followed. Ace was convinced it was because they knew secrets. They were traitors. They'd been finally caught passing all those messages to people, errands for Tony Secunda, their manager, that Trevor had never thought twice about. Ace had always been suspicious about them, but no one had believed him, convinced he was just being paranoid for no good reason.

"Haven't you ever looked inside those parcels?" Ace said.

Trevor shrugged. "Of course not. Why would I do that? Tony never said there was anything wrong with what we were doing. Why would I think there was?"

"Drugs. It must be drugs. Or stolen money. That's gotta be it. Why can't we just be a band? Why do we need to run errands all the time? Tony's up to something, I'm sure of it. I just don't know what. What else could they be for?" Ace said.

Trevor brushed him off. "You're loony. I know Tony's a bastard, but he's not some sort of criminal. Is he?"

"They never look like criminals. That's how they get away with it. We're passing on drug money. I always wondered why he never stopped me nicking stuff from him. I've seen it in his flat in London. He's got loads of drugs," Ace said.

"No, he doesn't. I get the drugs. You just stay here, thinking the whole world's out to get you. I don't know why I keep giving them to you. It doesn't make you happy anymore," Trevor said.

Ace shook his head. "No, no, I get it from him. That must be why they're out to get me. They know my secrets. I have too many secrets. Who do you think they are? Thugs? Criminals?" Ace's eyes widened with fear. "They're not. They're not Secret Service, are they? They can't be from the Government. Please tell me they're not spies. What have I done? Why would they follow me all over the country? What's going on?"

Trevor didn't know how to answer him. He thought about all the errands they'd done. Tony had made them seem like they were just being postmen, just delivering parcels to old friends and other business partners because they happened to be passing through that way anyway. It was convenient, and Tony trusted them. They weren't always delivering parcels either. Sometimes they were letters. In one case, it was a car that Tony'd bought from France for his mother. Sometimes, they were just meeting with people to pass on verbal messages and notes. Trevor had never thought anything was suss about them. Even if he had, he'd never have spoken about it, let alone asked Tony what was up. He was afraid Tony might just beat him up for daring to question his judgement. He'd seen that happen enough for it to be more than an empty threat.

But he'd seen them. He'd seen the men following Ace around. Ace, for once, wasn't just being irrationally paranoid for no good reason. He was telling the truth. Trevor didn't know what to do.

Ace grabbed his arm, looking up at him pleadingly. "Trevor, please, tell the others what's going on. They don't believe me anymore, but they'd believe you. They don't think you're crazy like me. They'd listen to you. Make them listen. I swear, something big is happening, and we're being caught up in it. I don't know what, but it's dangerous, and we could get into serious trouble. Please. Make them realise I'm not making it up this time."

Trevor promised he would, if only to make Ace calm down. He had no idea how he was going to deal with this. He wasn't sure they'd believe him more than Ace, but he wouldn't know until he tried. He just hoped Ace was wrong. He didn't want to get caught up with something bad. He just wanted to play music and get stoned. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

* * *

Ace had been very unwilling to go. Trevor had spent an hour coaxing him out of the house. They had another errand to run for Tony and they were meeting two men in Leicester in the middle of the bloody night. Trevor was thankful he'd managed to get Ace to come at all. They were already late in picking up Roy as it was. Roy, to be fair, hadn't wanted to go either, but at least he had been waiting outside the house for them when they pulled up.

Roy packed his bags into the back with the rest and climbed into the back seat. "So where are we going this time?"

Trevor tried not to sound too irritated. "Leicester. I told you before. You got a problem with that?"

"No, no problem. I just forgot. We went to Leicester last week didn't we? Why are we going back?" Roy said.

"Got something to pick up this time. Just - go to sleep like you usually do. I'll wake you when we get there," Trevor said, noticing Roy was already curled up in a corner, ready to drift off to sleep.

Roy didn't reply. Ace wasn't tired though. He was too jittery. Too much energy. Too many things to think about. They talked about mostly nonsensical things as they drove. Trevor wasn't really paying attention. He'd learnt to tune him out when he needed to concentrate, and driving at midnight was something he needed to concentrate on. Trevor was quietly glad they hadn't had a show that night. It was tough enough being out so late anyway, let alone when they had to rush off right after a gig to drive to Manchester or London or wherever they'd been told to go. At some point, Trevor would find some time to sleep, but he wasn't sure when that would be.

Trevor stopped outside Leicester Cathedral. God knows why they always met at churches, but that was where they'd been told to go. No one appeared to be around, and the streets were quiet. Trevor woke Roy, and they left the car to go wait for the men they'd been sent to meet. There were a couple of park benches to the left under some trees. It seemed like the best place to go. Roy ignored them as they lit their cigarettes, wishing he were back in bed.

"I don't know why you don't think there's anything weird about what we're doing. This isn't normal. I know we're usually out in the middle of the night, but not like this. It's not normal. Something's wrong. We're involved in something bad, I just know it," Ace murmured, gazing about anxiously.

"Oh, come on, we were going to head to London tomorrow anyway. It's just convenient for us to make this delivery. There's nothing more to it than that. Surely we'd notice something bad, wouldn't we? There's nothing wrong with these jobs, is there, Roy? We'd know, right?" Trevor said.

Roy gave him a look that suggested he hadn't really been paying attention. "Hmm? Oh, I don't know. I'm not sure what to think anymore."

"I know you think I'm crazy, and I know I haven't been so good lately, but you've got to believe me. Something's wrong. I think we're all being followed, it's not just me anymore, and I reckon it's because of all of this. Trust me for once, will you? This isn't normal. We're in big trouble. Very big trouble. If MI5 are following us around, it's big. This is serious. Maybe Tony's a spy. Maybe he's some double agent. What else could it be?" Ace said.

Trevor laughed. "Tony's not a fucking spy. He'd be the worst spy ever. Everyone knows his face. That's not what spies do. They don't get famous like that."

"Everyone knows who James Bond is," Ace countered.

"James Bond isn't a real person. Come on, espionage isn't like that. They're just movies, right? They're nothing like real life," Trevor said, although part of him secretly didn't believe that for a moment.

Ace didn't reply and wandered off, seemingly lost in thought. Trevor watched him as he leant against a tree, staring at the ground. Trevor looked back at Roy as he curled up beside him, clearly more interested in sleeping. Trevor just sat there smoking, wondering how long they'd be out this time.

It seemed to be a long wait, and Roy had almost drifted off again, when two men approached them from the other side of the church grounds. One carried a box covered in brown paper under one arm. Trevor nudged Roy to wake him as they got up.

"You Tony's boys?" the man with the parcel said. He sounded Russian, at least to Trevor, though all those accents started sounding the same in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, that's us. I thought we said one o'clock?" Trevor said, making a point of checking his watch.

"We were delayed. Here. This is what your boss wanted. Tell him Vikov will be happy to do business with him," the same man said, handing them the parcel.

Trevor took it from him. It didn't feel too heavy. "I'll tell him."

The man laughed as he and his companion turned to leave. "Such little children doing the work of big men. It's any wonder you are still alive."

Trevor declined to reply. He didn't want to think about what that meant. They waited til they were out of sight before discretely returning to their car. Trevor drove back in silence. Roy and Ace had fallen asleep, leaning against each other in the back seat. It was down to Trevor to deliver the parcel to Tony and then get everyone home. He was halfway back to Birmingham when he remembered he was supposed to go to London. Realising he was too tired to make the trip by himself, he woke the others and badgered them into sharing the drive. Ace declined, leaving Roy to take over while Trevor napped in the back. Trevor wondered how much sleep he'd get this time, and prayed they wouldn't crash.

Trevor knew from experience that simply delivering the parcel the next day when they headed down to London was not acceptable. Tony expected them to bring it straight to him. They had a gig in London tomorrow as it was, so it wasn't like they wouldn't have been going there anyway, but rules were rules. Trevor had remembered to pack for the gig already. Tony would at least give them a bed for the night when they arrived. Carl and Bev would come down the next day with the rest of the gear and their instruments. It was just easier that way. Trevor had stopped questioning it. It was just how things were done.

Dawn was upon them when they arrived in London. Roy had managed the drive without falling asleep or crashing. Trevor didn't much care about anything apart from finding somewhere to sleep. After delivering the parcel and passing on the message, they were allowed to go upstairs to sleep. Trevor had never been so happy to see a bed in all his life.

* * *

Carl was the only one who had any idea why Ace was being followed. He had actually seen the spies too, and seen them following him and the rest of the band, but it wasn't his place to talk about it. As long as everyone believed it was just a figment of Ace's imagination, there was no point in needlessly worrying them. He carried a gun and a knife with him all the time now, though more out of necessity than choice. He understood the danger they were in, even if the rest of the band didn't. Need to know, and all that. The gun concealed in a holster underneath his jacket was an uncomfortable reminder of the mess he'd become involved in.

Carl was in far too deep anyway. He knew too much. It was hard keeping secrets from the rest of the band, but his life had come to depend on it, and he didn't want them getting in any trouble either. He hadn't had a choice in the end. He'd walked in on something he really shouldn't have seen, and never wanted to know about. Faced with no other choice but to keep their secrets, it had become his initiation into a world he hadn't particularly wanted to join. Why they hadn't just shot him there and then he didn't know. A rare act of mercy, perhaps. Carl didn't particularly know, nor did he care. He was still alive, and that's all that mattered.

He was in London on his own. The rest of the band were unaware of what he was doing. The car was waiting for him by the train station, and he got in reluctantly, going over the plan in his head. Everything had been organised to perfection, and Carl was well-practiced at the sort of heavy work they were going to do that night. Carl hated that he'd become Tony's assassin-for-hire, but he'd done too much to just walk away now.

They drove in silence. Carl knew his driver, they were good friends, but they didn't speak. They never spoke when they were working, if they could avoid it. It made things too awkward. Carl found it deeply depressing that Wilf Pine, his companion, had more of a bad reputation than he did, even though Carl was the one who did the killing. But he cared too much about his clean reputation to dispute that in public. No one needed to know. No one would've suspected him anyway, which was why he started doing heavy work in the first place.

The house they stopped at was desperately ordinary. Carl got out and watched Wilf drive off into the night. The rest of the route was to be taken on foot. Another ten minutes and he was where he was supposed to be. It took him little time to pick the lock and get inside. Five minutes later, and the job was done. He slipped back out and walked off, keeping to the shadows as he went to rendezvous with Wilf again.

Wilf took him back to his place. It had become a bit like a ritual now. Carl rolled up his left sleeve. He lay back, drinking vodka straight from the bottle, as Wilf inked another black mark into his arm. Each line seemed to hurt more than the last one. He had another drink and tried to pretend he hadn't just killed another man.

* * *

The letter had arrived at Bev's door that morning with a note telling him where to deliver it. It wasn't an unusual ocurrence. He was used to dropping off letters on the way to London, or wherever else they were going. It had become weirdly routine, and the days he didn't find a parcel or letter on his door seemed strangely underwhelming. Still, it would add some interest to what would otherwise be a deathly boring journey, particularly on his own. There'd be no one to talk to as everyone was already in London. At least he'd got Carl to help him pack the van the night before. That would save him some time.

He left at nine. It was earlier than he'd like, but he had an hour-long detour to deliver the letter and he didn't want to get to London too late. The envelope sat on the seat beside him. It looked like a very ordinary and seemed to contain what Tony had said it contained. He hadn't bothered looking inside. He'd learnt not to bother doing that.

As he drove, he couldn't help thinking about the men Ace kept pointing out. Ace was convinced they were spies. Government agents. Bev had dismissed it as nonsense. Ace was just hallucinating. But then he'd noticed someone lurking about outside his house the night before as they'd been packing the van, someone who looked like the same men Ace had seen. He hadn't stood out, he was just hanging around in the shadows across the road. Surely it couldn't be the same men. Surely it was just a coincidence. Surely they weren't following him too. That would be too weird. He couldn't think of any reason they'd follow him, or Ace for that matter. He was just delivering papers and letters. He didn't know who he was delivering them to; he usually never saw them more than once, and he was never given real names either. He had never thought there was anything suspicious about any of this. He'd learnt not to question it. It was just part of his life now.

As he drove, he noticed he was being tailed. He was being followed by a big black car that seemed to keep far enough away from him that it might not look suspicious to anyone else. Bev ignored it for a while, until it became obvious he was being tailed. Maybe Ace was right. Maybe something big was happening. Bev decided not to act suspicious and just do his job. He wouldn't try to lose the car. He wouldn't do anything to make the car realise he knew he was there.

But as he turned down the street that led to the farm, he noticed the black car had vanished. It had stopped following him. He wasn't sure if this meant he was safe, or if something worse was about to happen. There was a garage halfway down the drive. Bev pulled over and drove inside, hoping he wouldn't be seen if the black car returned.

Sitting there in silence, he picked up the envelope and looked inside. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to know if there was anything in there that might warrant being tailed by Government agents. The envelope hadn't been sealed, making it easy enough to take a look without noticing. He took out the contents and looked through them. Most were indeed ordinary papers, contracts and other documents of little interest to Bev, but as he straightened them, some photos fell out and slipped down beneath the seat. Setting the papers aside, he retrieved the photos. He couldn't help looking at them. They were a series of very compromising photos of the Prime Minister. He wanted to forget what he'd seen as soon as he'd seen them. That was more than just innocent papers he was delivering to a friend of Tony's. He was afraid then. That meant blackmail and treason on a level he could hardly comprehend. What else could they be for? All he knew was that he really did not want to be caught with those photos and slipped all the papers and the photos back into the envelope.

"Oh, shit. Ace was right. This is serious."

Committed to seeing the delivery through now, he backed out of the garage and continued up the drive, wishing to get it over and done with as soon as possible so he could get away from all this trouble. Ace had been right after all. There were spies about, and Bev couldn't help thinking that he'd become caught up in something he might not be able to get out of.

* * *

Tony Secunda did not give in easily. He did not necessarily like giving in at all, if he could avoid it. He was sure he had been a double agent at one point, but he'd been bought so many times now, he wasn't sure what kind of agent he was anymore. He had too many bosses, too many handlers. He also had more money than he could ever want. The only reason he didn't worry was because he was still succeeding in keeping them all satisfied for the moment. He was sure it wouldn't last, but that wasn't the point. As long as he was still getting away with it, it worked.

He acted suitably surprised when MI5 appeared on his doorstep that morning. He had never liked dealing with British spies. They were always so ... uptight, and they never told him anything. They danced around the real issue, leaving him to infer from their vague words what they wanted to know. Plus, they had their limits; Tony didn't have any at all. He felt this was why he was still alive.

Part of him felt he should've run by now. He had his own men inside MI5 and they had made it clear he was on the books. They'd been keeping an eye on him for months, though as usual they never told him why. What rotten luck. On second thoughts, maybe running wasn't such a bad idea. Then he wouldn't have had to make the two spooks some bloody tea and crumpets and pretend he knew nothing at all.

They sat expressionless on the sofa. They looked like Oxbridge chaps, the sort who would rather spend their days smoking cigars and drinking port in their fathers' posh houses as they told themselves how very clever they were. For a moment, he wondered if he'd be able to kill them and get away before anyone noticed. If they already had a file on him, they might already know who else he was working for. He decided he wasn't going to tell them that. He'd make them work for their supper.

"Our sources have confirmed a link between you and the Russian Embassy," one of them had said.

"You make that sound like a crime," Tony retorted. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," the same one replied. "It is a crime if you are passing information to them."

Tony poured the tea into some fine china cups, decorated with pale purple flowers and a gold rim. "I never said I was. Why would I do that? Maybe I just want to go to Russia. One lump or two?"

"One. None for him. We know you're working for someone, Tony. We know you've been in contact with the Russians. Come clean and you might not get executed." The same agent spoke for a third time. Tony didn't know their names; they never bothered to introduce themselves anymore, so he focussed on trying to remember what they looked like for future reference in case he ever met them again.

"If you think that scares me, you've got another thing coming," Tony said, knowing they'd have a hard time getting that one accepted. He knew how important he was. They wouldn't kill him. He dropped a lump in one of the cups and offered it to the agent who'd spoken. He accepted it gruffly and nodded slightly in approval.

The second moved at last, setting a photo down on the table of one of the bands he managed. It was a front for the spying and the boys had turned into very useful agents on a very strict 'need to know' basis. They were always willing to help, liked the adventure, and anyway, they never knew what they were really getting involved in. Tony preferred it that way. It kept them safe. Still, Tony wouldn't have cared had the photo not shown three of his boys delivering a parcel to two of his contacts a week ago. That wasn't good.

"Care to explain this?" the second agent said.

"It's a photograph. What more would you like explained?" Tony said.

"These two men," the two contacts were pointed out by the second man, "are known to us as Russian double agents. What might they be doing meeting these boys?"

"How should I know? I don't control their lives," Tony said, and knew it was a lie. He sipped his tea to hide his guilt. "You can't even tell who they are. It's too dark."

Another photo was produced. "Is this one better?"

Tony had to concede it was. Roy, Ace and Trevor were there, their faces more than visible and identifiable. Tony smiled and brushed off the damning photos.

"I suggest you talk to them about it. I really don't know why they're out there so late," Tony said.

Silence filled the room as tea was drunk. Tony was more than a little aware his words would just spur them into arresting his boys instead, but well, they were disposable, after all. Perhaps it was time to disappear. Maybe his luck had finally run out.

* * *

It took Trevor a while to convince the others Ace wasn't lying when he said they were being followed. Trevor had tried to tell the others about the men following them for weeks now, but every time he'd tried to point them out, they'd vanished. It was infuriating. It didn't help that half the time, he'd been drunk at some bar. That hardly lent him any credibility. Carl had just told him to ask Tony about it if he was that worried, but when he'd finally plucked up enough courage to call Tony about it, Tony just said they must be from the press. Journalists and paparazzi. They were a famous band, after all. What else could they be? Trevor believed him, if only because he really couldn't think of what else they could be. He wasn't confident Ace's logic was sound enough to take as reliable.

The band were rehearsing in the back room of Bev's mother's shop, as nowhere else had been available. Small though it was, it was still big enough for the five of them. Bev was already there, and he was smashing away on his kit when Trevor and Carl arrived. Ace was actually quite cheerful when he strolled in too. He even smiled at Roy as he finally got there, declining to tease him about being late again. Trevor dared to hope Ace might be getting better as he listened to his whistling. He certainly seemed fine as they went through the new songs they were planning for the show that night. Everything seemed to go fine. There were no troubles with the songs, and Ace's bass playing was better than it had been lately. Trevor hoped he was getting better. Trevor knew he'd be up to take over on bass if, God forbid, Ace had to leave, but it wasn't something he was that keen to do, not if it meant Ace wasn't there anymore.

They took a break. Roy sat there, strumming quietly on his guitar, miles away as usual. Carl and Bev were chatting about football. Trevor was retuning his guitar as he noticed Ace leave the room. Moments later, he fled back in again, panicked and distressed. He ran over to Carl and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him back the way he'd come. Trevor followed, just to make sure things were okay. He found Ace and Carl by the front window. Ace was pointing urgently across the street to where two men in dark suits were standing outside another shop, seemingly minding their own business.

"They're out there. Charlie, please, those men, they're still following me. They're out on the street. See? Right there. They've been following me everywhere. Please believe me. I'm not mad, not this time. Trev said he'd seen 'em too, didn't you, Trev? Please tell me you can see them out there," Ace pleaded.

Carl looked at Trevor. Trevor could see them across the road, but how Ace knew they were the men following him he didn't know. "I have seen them, yeah. You sure that's them, though? Didn't you tell me it's not always the same men?"

"It's them, I promise. Bev's mum said they'd been there since we arrived. She can see them too. I don't know why they're following me, but I want them to go away. I just can't stand this madness anymore," Ace said.

Roy and Bev had joined them then, and they peered out of the window across the street, trying to see what was so interesting. Ace pointed them out again until everyone agreed they could see them.

"I think maybe we should call it a day. Go home and get some sleep before the gig tonight, yeah? We've all been a bit stressed lately," Carl said.

Ace refused to move. "I'm not leaving. They'll just follow me. They've been following me everywhere. All over the bloody country."

Trevor reached for his shoulder, but Ace pulled away. "Ace, I'll be with you. It's not like you'll be on your own. Why would they follow you anyway? What have you done? Who are they anyway?"

Carl thought a moment. "Assuming they are following you, and I'm not certain they are, they'd have to be MI5. Secret Service agents. It couldn't be anyone else. As to why they're following you, your guess is as good as mine. Why don't we head upstairs? At least we won't be so easily overheard."

"I told you I weren't lying. I told you they were there. They've been tailing me for weeks. What have I done?" Ace said as they headed into the flat above the shop.

The small flat was sparsely furnished, but comfortable. From the windows, they could still see the two men milling about the shops. There seemed to be a few more now, and occasionally, they would huddle into the shadows and talk into their watches, as if they were some sort of communications device. That there were more than two of them now was just a little bit scary. Maybe it wasn't just Ace they were watching anymore. No one wanted to think about what that might mean.

Ace paced around the room, unable to sit still. He wouldn't calm down, no matter how much Trevor told him to sit down. Trevor gave up and flopped into the sofa, exhausted.

Roy looked down at the men again, unable to tear his eyes away from them. "Do you really think they're MI5? Why would they even care about us? What have we done to attract their attention? Why would they be after all of us?"

Bev shrugged and turned away from the windows. "No idea. But Carl's right, though. They'd have to be Secret Service. No one else would tail us like that, right? Reckon Tony knows what's going on?"

"It's all those errands he makes us run for him. I know it is. That has to be it," Ace said, convinced that was the reason.

Trevor still wasn't convinced. "Why would it be that? There's nothing suss about those, is there? We're just passing on messages and stuff. Nothing wrong with that. I mean, if it was that, surely Tony'd tell us about that, right? He wouldn't get us to do them if there was anything bad about them, would he? Just because he's a bastard doesn't mean he's a criminal. Or a spy."

"It can't be that. He's not involved with that sort of thing, is he? Surely we'd have noticed by now," Carl said.

"Alright, so if it's not that, why are they following us? What could be so bad we've got Government agents on our tail? Why would all of us warrant that sort of surveillance? We're just kids in a band," Bev said.

"I keep tellin' ya what's going on. It's them errands. Tony's up to his neck in it, and he's dragged us into it as well. What other explanation is there? Why else would we be tailed if all that shit was legit? I've always thought there was something else going on. Didn't you ever pay any attention to all those blokes we were meeting? Didn't you ever wonder who they were? I'm telling you, we're involved in something much bigger than the band. I don't know what, but nothing else makes sense. Just - will you believe me for once? I ain't making this shit up. I promise you. It's all real. There's men out there and they've been following us for weeks. Surely you've noticed. Please tell me you've noticed," Ace said, desperate for them to believe him at last.

No one spoke. Ace kept peering out of the windows, keeping himself as hidden from sight as he could, just to make sure they were still there. They were. They moved about, sure, and they kept going into shops and talking to people, as if they were supposed to be there. Then two of them crossed the street, and Ace tried not to panic as they came into the shop beneath them.

"Oh, God, they're here. Below us. In the shop. They're right below us. Maybe they're coming to get us at last. Maybe they've come to take us away. What's going on? I can't stand this panic anymore. I can't go out. They're not going to kill us, are they? They're not going to storm up here and kill us?" Ace said.

Trevor shrugged, unable to dismiss the idea. "Well, if they're Secret Service, then yes, they probably could. You don't mess with MI5. If they want to kill us, they'll do it."

Ace sunk to his knees, distraught and panicked. That had not been the answer he'd wanted to hear. "No way. They won't kill us. They can't kill us. What have we even done wrong? I don't want to die. I really don't. But the voices, they said they'd-"

"Can you please shut up about your stupid voices already? For the last time, it's all in your bloody head," Trevor said, trying not to get too annoyed with him.

"It's not, they're real, I know they are-" Ace started, but fell silent, fingers digging into his skull. He cried forlornly, rocking back and forth.

"We need to do something about him. He's not okay anymore," Bev murmured to Carl.

Trevor ran a hand through his hair, trying not to look too scared. "You think I haven't tried to help him? He won't go. He's too scared they're out to get him. I don't know what to do with him anymore. That's not going to happen to me is it?"

Ace collapsed in a heap, curled into himself. He was definitely not okay. This was different from the moody silences that had become an irritating constant over the past few months. This looked like a proper breakdown. No one knew what to do.

"Tell me he's going to be okay. Please," Trevor said quietly.

Bev and Carl looked at him helplessly, unable to give him an answer. Trevor sat down beside him and pulled him into his arms. Ace barely fought him and clung onto him, terrified, his body limp with fear.

"Ace, please. Can you hear me at all? Ace? You gotta be okay, you hear?" Trevor said, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

Ace didn't reply. Trevor hugged him close, trying to settle him. He didn't know what he was going through, and he didn't know how to help him. He almost kissed him, trying to get through to him, but he didn't want Bev and Carl to know how close they were. Trevor hadn't meant to fall for him, but they'd started fooling around when they were high, and it just went from there. But with Ace's condition, on top of being followed by spies, it was just too much to bear.

* * *

It had seemed like such an ordinary day when Bev woke that morning in London, but it had become anything but ordinary. Seeing those photos he'd inadvertently delivered splashed all over the papers and discovering his band were suddenly in deep trouble was not a great way to start the day. Maybe he really had been followed the day he'd inadvertently delivered those photos. He didn't say anything though when the band met later on in the studio. He didn't want to believe he'd been part of it. It wasn't like the rest of the band had any idea what was going on either. They had no idea about the postcard the articles had been talking about. It was the first they'd heard of it, and to find they were in trouble with the Prime Minister was nothing short of terrifying. It certainly gave them a plausible reason for why Secret Service agents might want to follow them around.

Carl decided they should go see Tony about it. Bev thought that was a very good idea. Ace was sure everything was about to implode, you don't anger the Prime Minster and get away without punishment, but Trevor had managed to keep him relatively calm so far, having convinced him it was just a misunderstanding and had nothing to do with them. Roy hadn't spoken at all.

As they left the studios, men appeared from the shadows and followed them. Everyone was following them that day, and avoiding the press was harder than normal. It did seem to make it clear that something big was happening. Ace kept looking back over his shoulder, unable to relax. He was convinced they were about to be arrested and shot as traitors to the Crown.

Carl led the way, making sure they lost the spies as they went, if only to relieve a little stress. Being followed all the time was beginning to get very tiring. Sneaking in through the back, Tony was a little surprised to see them all there, frightened looks on their faces. Carl stepped forward, grabbing his collar.

"What's going on? You know we're all being followed, don't you? What have you done to piss them off? What's all this about a bloody postcard anyway? What the hell have you been up to?" Carl growled, resisting the urge to hit him.

Tony shoved him off and walked away. Carl drew his gun and held it to his neck. Ace's eyes widened in fear and he hid behind Trevor, hoping this was all just a horrible nightmare. He had no idea what was going on but, _Oh God, Carl had a gun_ and this could go so very wrong.

"Tell them what's going on. I've killed too many of them for you. I'm not doing it anymore," Carl said, keeping his voice steady.

Carl knew things had changed when Tony didn't immediately move to strike him down or kick the gun out of his hands. Even a month ago, Tony wouldn't have tolerated such insubordination and Carl would already be on the floor. Now, Tony just stood there in silence, refusing to look at them. Carl didn't know what had caused such a dramatic change in his personality.

"All you need to know is that they're after me, not you. I won't tell you any more. It's safer that way. I just have one last job for you to do, then you're free to do whatever you like. Run away, if you must. Can you do that for me?"

Carl hardened his gaze, pressing the gun into his neck. "I'm not running any more errands. Do it yourself."

"Just one more, I promise. The envelope over there on the desk. I need it delivered to one of my contacts. It's nothing bad, just some papers he needs to sign, that's all. I'll void the contract then. You'll be free to do your own thing. Isn't it time you moved on?"

If Tony thought turning around was a good idea, he was mistaken as soon as Carl's fist smashed into his face. He fell down and gashed his head on the coffee table. He got up slowly and decided now was not the time to fight back. Carl still had the gun trained on his chest. He'd already killed before. He could do it again if Tony provoked him enough.

"No more errands. They know we're doing them. They'll arrest us if they catch us doing that again," Carl said.

"Carl, please, what's going on? What do you know that we don't?" Roy ventured, moving up beside him as he watched them.

Carl glanced at him. "I don't know. Should I tell them what you've been up to, Tony? Should I tell them what they've become involved in? Because I'm sick of keeping quiet about it. It's too hard now. You saw the papers this morning. I'm assuming that was your little trick, yes? It's not like we had anything to do with that. Why should we take the fall for it?"

Tony looked like he wanted to speak, but said nothing. He turned to leave, dismissing them. Carl went after him, keeping the gun trained on the back of his neck.

"How many have I killed for you? Would you like me to tell them? Don't they have a right to know what they've been getting involved in?"

Tony didn't move. "Don't tell them. It's safer if they don't know. Just get out of here before they come for you."

"You're fucking weak, Secunda. I thought you had more guts than that," Carl taunted.

As Tony turned to answer him, Carl punched him again for good measure. Tony fell to the floor. Carl put the gun away and turned to the rest of the band. "Come on, boys. Let's get out of here."

Ace was more than glad to leave, and as soon as they were back out on the street, he fled, Trevor not far behind him. Carl, Roy and Bev watched them go. Bev couldn't shake the feeling they were in far deeper trouble than any of them had imagined.

"Don't say anything. Not til we get back," Carl cautioned, noticing the men slipping out of the shadows as they walked.

* * *

Tony didn't get up immediately. His head was aching and he was scolding himself for his lack of anger. There was a time when Carl had been afraid of him. They'd all been afraid of him. That time had passed. Bereft of his power over them, he had nothing left to do but let them go. He got the sense that now might not be a bad time to make a run for it.

Slowly, he got to his feet and went to see how badly injured he was. He didn't want to go to hospital if he could help it. He didn't have enough time for that. Carl had hit him hard and he knew he'd have bruises there. As he gazed at his reflection, he wondered if it was even worth bothering trying to treat them. They weren't that bad. The gash on the back of his head wasn't bleeding too much now, either. Stubbornly, he decided to ignore his injuries and concentrate on getting out of there.

He made a couple of calls. He was passing on messages, rather than risk direct communications. There were just a few loose ends to tie up before he could disappear. He took his own gun from the box it was kept in. He took a moment to check it was clean and loaded before setting it in its holster. He had a second smaller gun kept in a leg holster above his ankle; it was always there so he was never unarmed. After picking out a few select documents from his desk, and the envelope he would have to deliver himself, he grabbed his keys and left, hoping he'd be gone by nightfall.

* * *

Roy hadn't noticed the vans parked near their flat until there was no time to escape. After the confrontation with Tony, he'd left Carl and Bev behind and gone straight home to think about everything that had happened. He needed time alone to think. His plan was interrupted as he noticed the van parked across the road. If it had just been a van, Ry felt he would've ignored it. But then there was another van, and a black car. Men began emerging from the shadows. Something big was going down, that's for sure.

Roy went downstairs. He could see them through the front window. Why were they all here? What did they want? He didn't dare open the door, but peered out through the curtains instead, hoping they wouldn't actually come into the house.

At first, they stayed in their cars, just watching. Roy was too captivated to leave, and the longer they stayed there, the more afraid he became. This wasn't just strange men emerging from the shadows, following him everywhere. Slowly, the sound of a helicopter could be heard, and men began leaving their cars. Roy decided he should probably leave then.

Running to the back of the house, he tried to get out, but found the door locked. Frantically searching for the keys, he fumbled with the lock as he turned it the wrong way. When he finally got the door open, he saw two suits standing there, dressed like Victorian gentlemen. Roy fled, heading back to the front of the house.

He ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, hoping he might be able to climb out the window, but found them all locked too. He'd never been as good at climbing the drainpipe as Carl anyway. As he turned, he saw the two men in the doorway, one holding a very strange-looking gun. It was the last thing Roy saw before a fine mist enveloped him and he blacked out.

* * *

Trevor eventually found Ace hiding in the shed in their backyard after searching half the houses in the surrounding streets. Ace had run off ahead of him, and Trevor hadn't been entirely sure he'd go straight home, so he'd searched every hiding place he could think of along the way, just to make sure. Curled into himself, Ace was staring at the wall opposite. Trevor tried to get him to stand, but Ace just wouldn't move. His body refused to move, and Ace just sat there expressionless, lost in his mind.

"Come on, Ace, you can't stay here. We've got to get out of here," Trevor said.

"No, they'll get me. We're not safe anymore. Charlie had a gun, Trev. He had a gun. I heard helicopters before. Someone was screaming. What the hell's going on?" Ace murmured.

"I dunno. But we'd better go. I think we're way out of our depth here and I don't wanna hang around to find out how bad it's gonna get. You with me?" Trevor said.

"Stop the voices, Trev. Please, stop the goddamn voices," Ace said.

He didn't resist this time as Trevor pulled him to his feet. Heading back into the house, Ace sat on the sofa lost in his mind as Trevor packed around him. Ace had no idea what was going on, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The only thing he kept seeing was Carl pointing a gun at their manager. So much had gone wrong. Ace just wanted to escape.

Sitting on the sofa, Trevor kept watch out the window, waiting for the right moment to go. Ace was curled up beside him, silent and terrified. He hadn't spoken at all, and Trevor just stroked his hair gently, trying to calm them both. They hadn't actually planned how they were going to escape. Honestly, Trevor just wanted to go home. But Ace wouldn't move until he knew they weren't being followed, and Trevor had no way of telling.

Trevor felt he was far too young to be caught up in such serious trouble. He was only eighteen years old. Ace was three years older than him, but acid had broken his mind. Trevor felt he was stuck looking after a child, but he still wouldn't abandon him for anything. Someone had to take care of Ace if he couldn't take care of himself.

But then shadowy men had started following them and Charlie had a gun. He'd said he'd killed people. Trevor didn't want to think about what that meant. The whole fucking world was collapsing around them and there didn't seem to be any way to escape. He lit a joint and let his mind drift away. If he didn't think about it, it would go away.

* * *

Carl and Bev had gone to the pub first. It was the only place they could find that gave them some peace and space to think. They didn't talk but in soft whispers, hoping no one noticed them. Bev told him about being followed, and that he'd delivered those photos. He almost hadn't mentioned it, but it couldn't be ignored now. Bev suspected Carl knew more than he was letting on, but Carl wouldn't discuss anything until they were home. He wasn't convinced they were safe from being overheard.

It was a moment of relief. No one was hounding them down. Bev could see the worry in Carl's body as he sat there beside him. Bev wanted to talk to him, but he knew they were exposed, even though they were hiding in a crowd.

"We have to leave, don't we?" Bev asked as he glanced around.

Carl nodded, silent.

"Are we going to make it out alive?"

Carl couldn't give him an answer. Bev tried not to let it worry him.

* * *

Ace grasped his arm and looked up at him. Alone, Trevor felt safe kissing him, hoping it would help calm him down. And it did help. Sharing the joint, Ace brought him close, and let Trevor's hands slip inside his shirt. Ace kissed him urgently, seeking his reassurance. He didn't notice what Trevor's hands were doing until a hand slipped inside his trousers. Ace froze, his mind riddled with panic.

Trevor was smothering him. Ace tried to push away, tried to push him away, but he didn't have any strength left. Trevor looked at him, surprised, and wondered why he suddenly didn't want to be near him. Ace pushed at him again, struggling to get free.

"Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me, Trevor. Please don't touch me. Please stop it. I told you not to touch me. What are you doing to me?"

Trevor looked at him, searching his eyes, and Ace didn't like the confusion he saw there. Trevor suddenly pushed him away, and Ace didn't know how to take it. "You-You're a girl? You're really a girl? But I thought you said-you lied to me, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Ace recoiled in panic, arms instinctively covering his head. "No, please, I swear, I didn't lie. I'm a boy. I'm a boy. I told you not to touch me. I told you to stop! I don't like being touched. Please don't touch me. I'm a boy. I'm a boy. I'm a boy. Don't touch me. I'm not lying. I'm not lying. I never lied. Please believe me."

Ace pushed and kicked at him, and finally scrambled away from him. Trevor reached for him, but Ace slipped free from his grasp. The only safe place he could find in the room was behind the armchair in the corner, and he curled up, afraid, as he pulled his trousers up, terrified that Trevor had worked out his secret. His hands grasped his belt tightly, unwilling to let go in case someone else saw how wrong his body was.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he moved as far away as he could, terrified Trevor was going to hurt him. He'd never told him. He hadn't felt confident enough to tell him. He thought Trevor understood his boundaries. His shirt was unbuttoned too. Oh, God, had Trevor seen the bandages? He'd know everything if he had.

"Don't hurt me. Please. I told you not to touch me. I asked you not to touch me. Please don't hurt me," Ace murmured, scared out of his mind.

"Ace? Are you really a girl? Why didn't you tell me you were a girl? Why would you lie to me like that? I thought we were friends. Ace? Will you come out of there?" Trevor said.

Ace curled up even tighter, refusing to move. "Go away. Don't hurt me. Don't touch me. Just leave me alone, please."

Trevor didn't reply; Ace heard him retreat, though where he'd gone he didn't know. Ace stayed where he was, too afraid to come out in case Trevor hurt him. His mind was riddled with panic and fear, bringing terrible memories to the surface that he hadn't wanted to remember.

* * *

Returning to the flat, Carl and Bev had gone to see if Roy was alright. Seeing the front door hanging open was not at all comforting. Carl got his gun out, just in case, and slowly pushed the door open. When there was no immediate ambush, they went inside.

"You don't think they've got him, do you? I thought they weren't after us," Bev said.

"I don't know. He wouldn't just leave like this though. What else could it be?" Carl said.

Bev didn't want to answer that particular question. "Let's look upstairs anyway, just in case."

They both knew they wouldn't find him, but they wanted to look anyway. Roy's room was empty, and there was no sign he'd been there. Carl noticed he'd bothered to bring his toy dragons, and they sat on a shelf above his bed. One of the dragons had been knocked down. He reached over and stood it up again.

"I really don't like this at all," Carl said, slipping the gun away, convinced they were probably safe for the moment.

"I wish you didn't have that gun," Bev countered.

"I wish I didn't have it either. Come on, let's get out of here. He's obviously not here," Carl said.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found Trevor standing in the middle of the front room, perplexed. Ace was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Ace? Did he run off again?" Bev asked as they approached.

Trevor gestured over his shoulder. "Behind the chair. Did you know she's really a girl? She's a girl. I-I didn't even know. She won't come out."

Bev went over to the armchair. Shifting it aside a little, he found Ace shaking with fear. Bev looked back at Trevor angrily. "What did you do to him?"

Trevor tried to look apologetic. "Nothing! I never did anything, I swear."

"He touched me," Ace murmured softly. "I-I told him not to, but he touched me. He knows I'm a girl. But I'm not a girl, not really. I'm a boy. I've always been a boy. I just have the wrong body. Please believe me. I'm not delusional. I'm not crazy. This is true. I'm not lying. I'm not lying. I swear, I'm not lying. Please, believe me. I need you to believe me."

Bev sat down beside him, and Ace let him bring him into his arms. "It's okay, I believe you. What'd he do exactly?"

Ace shook his head, refusing to speak. He pressed his hands against his eyes, hiding his tears. Bev could feel his body shaking as he wept.

"Come on, Ace, I'll take you home, okay? We'll go home and away from all this, yeah?" Bev said.

Ace nodded mutely, and clung to Bev as they emerged from behind the chair. As soon as Ace realised Carl was there, he backed off, hiding behind Bev for protection.

"Oh, God, don't you shoot me, Charlie. Please don't kill me. Don't kill me because I'm a girl. Please don't hurt me," Ace pleaded.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ace. I promise. Look, no gun. I'm not going to shoot you," Carl said, showing him his empty hands. He took his gun out and set it on the coffee table.

Ace peered out from behind Bev, still clinging to his arm. Carl wasn't holding a gun. He calmed down a little, his attention and fear drawn away from Trevor for a moment. "Charlie? What's going on? Please tell me what's going on. I can't work it out. We're still in danger, aren't we?"

"We need to leave, that's what. I won't tell you more than that to protect you. Just trust me, alright? We need to escape. That's how bad it is," Carl said.

Ace accepted it. He didn't think he had any other choice. Bev had an arm around him, holding him tight. He was still scared, and he was still afraid of Trevor. He wasn't sure what was more of a priority.

"Now what happened with Trevor? I want this sorted before we go anywhere," Carl said.

Ace almost ran away again, unwilling to talk about it, but Bev held him tight and whispered his support. In that moment, in that situation, it was enough. "We've been together. Y'know. For a while. He jus' - he touched me when I didn't want him to."

"Yeah, well, you didn't tell me you were really a _girl_ ," Trevor retorted.

Ace shrunk away from him, waiting to be hit. Now the whole band knew. He had no idea how they'd all react. "I didn't lie. I'm not a liar. It's not a delusion. Please don't hurt me. I never told anyone because of this. I was too afraid. Been hurt before..."

"We're not going to hurt you, are we, Trevor? We know you're not a girl," Bev said, trying to settle him.

Trevor went over to Ace. "I thought I knew you. And you kept that from me. I'm sorry, but it's not something I can just deal with right now. Who are you? I don't know you anymore."

"I'm Ace. I've always been Ace. Why is that so hard to accept?" Ace said. He squeezed Bev's hand, seeking his reassurance. "I told you not to touch me, and you did anyway. How do I know I can trust you?"

Trevor almost went at him again, but Ace shied away from him, and seeing him so scared of him broke his anger. He took a moment to calm himself down before replying. "But I thought you were alright with it? Obviously you weren't, and I should've realised that. I'm sorry. I don't want you to be scared of me. You know I'd never hurt you, right? I couldn't hurt you. I'm sorry I got angry. I just - it was a shock. I didn't know. I just thought- I'm not sure what I thought now. It's over now, I guess. Will you ever trust me again? I still love you, even though I probably don't deserve to right now."

Still holding Bev's hand, Ace stepped forward and punched Trevor in the face. "That's the least you deserve. If you ever try it again, I'll get Carl to shoot you. Alright?" Ace said, hesitation flooding his voice.

Trevor recoiled, but didn't reply. He backed off, glad his nose wasn't bleeding. That would've been inconvenient. His face hurt like hell though. He didn't expect Ace to grab his face and pull him into a kiss. More pain. Trevor accepted it, wondering why the hell Ace still cared. He wondered why the hell _he_ still cared. Perhaps it was because Bev and Carl seemed to accept it. They didn't seem to care that Ace was a girl. Maybe it wasn't an issue, particularly considering the much more serious trouble they were currently in.

"Just so you know, you aren't forgiven yet. If we're still alive at the end of this, I'll think about staying with you," Ace said.

Trevor was more than a little grateful. "So. I think we'd better go home, don't you think? Get away from this bloody city."

Ace nodded and let Trevor wrap an arm around him. "I just want to get out of here. I need to be somewhere safe. Where's safe, Charlie? Where can we go?"

Trevor turned to Carl and Bev. "We'll be on the next train. Maybe we'll see you at home. We've got a lot to talk about."

"We'll be there as soon as we can, alright? Try to remember the stakes here, alright? We've got Government spies determined to bring us in. I'm not about to let that happen. If you're going to go on your own, go home and pack. Pack lightly. I don't know how much we'll be able to take with us. Don't even dare to breath a word of this to anyone, even your parents. I've got a few things to sort out here first before we head back so we'll meet you at St Richards at eleven tomorrow morning. Can you manage that?" Carl said.

"Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow," Trevor said. He ushered Ace out the door.

Bev went to follow them, but Carl held him back. "No, let them go. Hopefully, they can sort things out between them. Come on, we'd better get packing. We've got things to do."

* * *

Bev found he couldn't disagree with that. They headed upstairs to gather their things. Carl went to the front room and gazed down at the street. The men following them were still there. They stood across the road. One was smoking. Another reading a paper. It looked like a scene out of a James Bond movie, excepting the real danger they faced. It wouldn't end as soon as they walked out of the cinema. Real life didn't work that way.

Carl smoked as he kept glancing out the window, keeping an eye on them. Bev took a seat in one of the armchairs, still not entirely sure what to make of what had just happened.

"It's all going wrong, isn't it? What are we going to do?" Bev said.

"We run. If Tony's smart, he'll run too. Don't ask me to tell you anything. It'll just make you more valuable to them," Carl said.

"Where are we going to go? If it's not about us, why would we run? We haven't done anything," Bev asked.

Carl moved away from the window. "You haven't, but I have. Would you rather wait here for them to come and take us away? Because I certainly don't. If they didn't care about us, they wouldn't have been following us for so long. Trust me, one day they'll come for us and I'd rather not be there when that happens."

Bev got to his feet and approached him. "What do you know that we don't? What are you hiding?"

Carl gazed down at the men down there on the street. "I know too much, that's what. I've done too much. I'm not in as deep as Tony, but I'm not an innocent party anymore, not like you. You can sleep at night. I can't. I'm the one carrying a gun because I have to. I won't tell you what I've done. You don't want to know. I'm just trying to protect you. You can't tell them what you don't know."

Bev rested a hand on his shoulder. "I know more than you think. I'm the only other sane person in this band. You think I haven't worked out some of what's going on? Back there, you said you'd killed people. How many have lives have you taken for him?"

Carl didn't hesitate. "Seven. I'm just as bad as Tony, aren't I? I stopped feeling it after the third one. I just do it automatically now. I pretend it doesn't affect me. I'd go mad if I thought about it." He showed him his left forearm. There were seven small black lines tattooed into his skin. "I collect them like trophies. I disgust myself sometimes."

Bev walked away from him, trying to comprehend what he'd said. He'd known they mixed with sometimes quite dangerous company, but he hadn't thought it was that dangerous. Those black lines bore their way into his memory. Seven. Seven people had died. _Carl had killed seven people._ What kind of business had they got themselves caught up in? And was it too late to run away?

"Who were they?" Bev asked after a while.

"Spies. Sometimes ours, sometimes someone else's. Sometimes they were people who just got in the way. We're in too deep, Bev. We can't get out of this one."

Carl fell silent. Bev turned to him. "Are you going to tell me the rest? I think you've told me too much already."

"No, I'm not telling you any more. I'm trying to protect you. If they're going to come and take us away for questioning, I'd rather you didn't know anything at all. That way you won't be keeping secrets, you'll be telling the truth. But I'd rather we got away before they get hold of us."

Bev understood his argument, even if he didn't agree with it. He got the impression Carl didn't want any more questions. "Alright. So where do we go then? How can we get out of here without them following us?"

"Leave that to me. I'll sort out our escape, alright? And if you breathe a word of this, even to your mother, I'll fucking kill you myself," Carl said.

Bev had no doubt Carl's threat was real. Carl stood there by the window, watching the spies below. He felt like shooting them both now, just so he could get some peace, but he'd had enough. There were more important things to do now.

"They took Roy, didn't they? Whoever's been following us. They've taken him somewhere, haven't they?" Bev said.

Carl didn't immediately reply. "I don't know. Probably. I don't even know who we can trust anymore. Wait here, will you? I've got a few things to do. Don't go anywhere. Don't give them reason to think we're leaving."

"When will you be back?" Bev said.

Carl turned to him. "I don't know. If I'm not back by midnight, take the van and leave. Drive to Birmingham and find Ace and Trevor. Get the hell out of there. Anywhere. Go as far away from here as you can and don't try to contact me. Stay the fuck away from Germany, if you have to flee to Europe. It's too dangerous for us there now. Belgium might be safer. That's all I can tell you."

Bev felt like Carl was trying to say goodbye, but he didn't call him on it. Instead, he promised he'd do what he said and watched him go. He was left in the house by himself, knowing he'd be fleeing. Leaving his home and everyone he loved. He sunk down into a chair and fought back his tears. He couldn't even tell his mother where he was going. He wished he hadn't got up that morning.

* * *

Carl went back to Tony's place, hoping he'd still be around. Slipping around the back again, he found Tony packing hurriedly, as if he was just about to leave. Carl surprised him. Tony didn't bother inviting him in. Without the rest of the band present, Carl could talk more freely. Tony offered him some scotch. Carl turned him down. He smirked a little at the bruising on his face.

"Where's the money, Tony? You still owe me," Carl said.

"I owe you nothing. I should shoot you and your miserable friends and escape without you," Tony said.

"No, you wouldn't. You'd have already left us in a ditch if you still had the stomach for it. Where's the money?" Carl said.

Tony walked away from him. Carl went after him and tackled him to the ground. Carl wasn't certain he was going to win when he began fighting him, and Tony did put up a very good fight, but Carl eventually overpowered him, punching his head a few times to make him finally submit. He drew his gun and held it to his temple.

"Where's the fucking money?" Carl tried again.

Tony stared up at him wearily. "Floorboards. Cupboard under the stairs. If y'think that'll save you, you're mistaken."

Carl left him to retrieve what he came for. He found the money where Tony said it would be, and packed it tightly into a small case. He almost took the fake passports and travel documents, but thought it might be safer to let Tony take the fall for those particular forgeries and left them behind.

Tony was sitting up by the time he came back. Carl took one last look at him and shot him in the chest several times. He was taking no chances, even if killing him might be doing him a favour. He was glad the bastard lived alone too. No one saw him sneak out the back and into the alleyway, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

The order to move out had come quickly. Some gunshots had been heard from Tony's house, and this might be the last chance they get to pick up their rogue agent before he died. In droves, they descended on Tony's house, a helicopter hovering nearby. The normally quiet street was filled with activity and noise, and some local police were deployed to keep people back who had come to watch the spectacle.

The man in charge was a thin unassuming man with a round face and sharp wit by the name of Samuel Dinwiddy. He was in charge of this particular operation and he'd been keeping tabs on their rogue agent for months now. Tony had been such a promising young spy, but he'd been turned somewhere along the line, and his loyalties were seriously compromised. As he was still working for the Secret Service and had continued to pass information to them, he might've been lucky to get some jail time. But Tony knew too much, and MI5 were keen to get hold of Tony before someone else got hold of him. Whoever could extract the secrets from his mind would be in a very advantageous position.

Mr Dinwiddy stood in the front room, watching the paramedics go to work. The two agents who had been watching the house had seen him being shot and had called for help. If Tony died, their efforts would all have been in vain.

"Is he going to live?" Mr Dinwiddy asked as the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher.

"Yes, he is. But we need to get him to hospital now. He needs surgery immediately or he won't survive the journey," one of the paramedics said.

"Shall I call ahead and get our people ready? That might save us some time," Mr Dinwiddy said.

There was a frantic nod from the paramedic and Mr Dinwiddy went to phone the local hospital. MI5 had men everywhere, and it didn't take long for the message to get through. The paramedics carried Tony out to the ambulance and rushed him through the streets with a police escort, hoping to get him there in time.

Mr Dinwiddy watched them go, unconcerned. He had absolute faith in his men and knew they'd bring him through. He left the front room and headed into the hall. His agents were still searching, and had come out with some interesting things. The cupboard under the stairs had some particularly interesting finds under the floorboards.

Yes, Mr Dinwiddy was feeling quite pleased about the operation. The boys who were running errands for him were less of a priority, but he'd been ordered to track them down and arrest them too. They could be used as leverage if necessary, and they might sell out their boss if pushed in the right way. Mr Dinwiddy was convinced they knew something, and he was determined to find out what. They would be returned to the world soon enough, but not after they'd given them all the information they knew. And they would give it to them, Mr Dinwiddy was quite sure of that.

He strolled about the house, watching his men at work. He had never felt so pleased by his achievements before and he would sleep well that night, knowing he'd been the man to catch Andromeda, the most notorious spy this side of the Channel.

* * *

It was always ridiculously easy to find Denny. There was only one place he could be. If he wasn't there, which was rare, Carl was out of luck. It was a small townhouse in the west of the city. It looked mostly innocuous and there was nothing to suggest what had sometimes happened in that house. Carl just hoped he was in. Parking in the street outside, he knocked on the door, his knife tucked in his sleeve should Denny need some persuading.

After some persistence, Denny did come to the door. Half-dressed, with a dressing gown hastily thrown on, it appeared Carl had interrupted him. He ran a hand through his messy hair and glanced down the street, hoping no one had seen him. Carl refused to look apologetic about it.

"Busy night? I wondered if I might find you here," Carl said.

Denny gave him a confused look. "What do you want? Why are you even here?"

"We need to talk. It's not optional," Carl said, bringing the knife to his attention as he pressed it against his ribs.

It wasn't easy to intimidate the big man, but there was something in Carl's voice that suggested things were serious. "You'd better come in then."

Carl entered, and Denny led him into the basement where they could talk without being overheard. It was a dark room, with little furnishing bar some large crates against one wall, a card table and chairs, and some assorted tools lying about the place. Carl leant against the table, peering over his shoulder back at Denny.

"You know why we're being followed, don't you? Am I in any trouble?" Carl said.

"If they've got anything on you, I haven't heard about it. I thought it was just because you've been seen running errands. I don't think they think you're of much value, but you can't be too sure with them spooks anymore. They never tell me what I really want to know, and believe me, I've tried my hardest to get them to tell me anything," Denny said.

Carl turned to face him. "Are we safe then? Or should we run?"

Denny shrugged. "I always assume the worst. If they've got men following you around, they'll likely bring you in sooner or later. I'm sure they're after Tony, but then half the world's after Tony so whoever gets hold of him will win a very valuable prize. I'm assuming they think they can get to him through you, otherwise why bother with messenger boys?"

"That's what I'd thought too. Why bother with us unless they think we know something? It's ridiculous, of course. I'm the only one who knows anything, but I don't even know all that much anyway. I only know about some of the things he's been getting involved with over the past year or so. I don't know about the international stuff. It's not my job to know. I protect the others so they don't have to know that stuff. I'm afraid they'll find out about what I've done, though. I'm not as innocent as they'd like to think," Carl said.

"I know, I was there earlier. I know what you did to Tony. I saw you shoot him. I left just after you did," Denny said. "If I didn't think you'd done the world a favour, I'd shoot you myself."

"I did Tony a favour. Now no one can get him. He is dead, isn't he?" Carl said.

"I wish he was, but they got to him too quickly. Barely alive, I'd wager, but they did get him. I'm assuming they were our boys. No one else would get here that quick. You should've seen them. Swarmed in like some sort of armoured cops and took him away. They got to him almost as soon as you'd shot him. If I hadn't been worried about being caught, I'd have stayed to see what happened. I just saw him being lifted off in a helicopter. I'm assuming he survived. So someone's got him now. You were an idiot to go there again. You set them off," Denny said.

Carl almost felt sorry for him. "But won't that take the heat off us? They've got their man. Why would they bother with us now? They've already taken Roy. I'm assuming the rest of us aren't far off."

"They'll think you'll get him to talk, that's why. They'll assume he'll care about you, though I don't know why, but we both know he's never cared about anyone but himself. I say, good luck to whoever's trying to crack him. He'll never give in if he can help it. He knows too much and he knows how much he's worth. Mark my words, he's got the power this time," Denny said.

Carl thought a moment before he spoke. "So should we still run?"

"Yes. Run like hell. Don't let them get you. Any of them. The British aren't the only ones you're going to have to run from."

"Can you help us?"

He went over to one of the crates and dug out some papers, travel documents and fake passports. "Here, use these IDs. This should get you to France. George will help you, if you are lucky enough to get there. Where you go from there, that's up to you. And if you ever sell me out, so help me I will hunt you down myself and slit your goddamn throat."

Carl checked them to make sure they were good and slipped them into his jacket pocket. "Good man. Hopefully, this'll be the last time I ever see you. Send my regards to the wife."

And with that, Carl left, content he had what he needed to plan their escape. With renewed determination, he drove off, one more errand in mind before he could meet them.

* * *

Hours passed. Bev had grown tired of watching the clock. There wasn't much else to do. He had almost gone out for a drink to cure his boredom, but he knew Carl wouldn't approve. Carl needed him here in case he got back in time. He'd already packed their bags. They were sitting by the door. The men were still outside too. Bev wondered how they could possibly spend so much time doing nothing out there.

As midnight approached, Bev began to lose hope that Carl would turn up. Just as midnight struck, he went to get his bags and leave. Opening the door, he found Carl standing there, a case in his hand. Bev was very relieved to see him. At least he could stop worrying that something bad had happened to him.

"You took your bloody time," Bev said.

"Van. Now. We're leaving," Carl said.

Bev didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed their bags, threw them in the back of the van, and together, they drove off into the night, heading back to Birmingham.

* * *

Ace and Trevor had gone straight home and packed everything they could. They knew it wasn't in their interests to hang about any longer. Ace didn't want to leave, but he understood. Trevor was just thankful they had a garage to pack in, so that if they were still being followed, they wouldn't see them packing from the house. Ace helped as much as he could, but there was only so much unfounded paranoia and weird tension Trevor could take, and eventually told him to go sit in the front room while he finished off. He needed some time alone to process everything that had happened that night.

Ace did as he was told, though he was more than a little upset he didn't have his bass guitar with him. It was still in the van back in London. He needed to play it, it always calmed him down, but he didn't have it. There was nothing Trevor could do about it. He rang the house in London, but no one answered. Maybe Carl and Bev had left as well. Maybe they'd be back in Birmingham soon.

* * *

It was well after midnight before Trevor thought it was safe to leave. Ace had been dozing on the sofa and he woke with a start as an explosion blasted down the street. Hoping it was nothing serious, and unwilling to hang around to find out, it was the only distraction that had appeared and Trevor wasn't going to wait anymore. Bundling a sleepy Ace into the car, he tore off down the street, hoping he'd avoided being followed.

Trevor drove west, for no other reason than he felt it might throw them off their trail. They'd probably expect them to go to London, but Trevor wasn't having any of that. London was too dangerous. He didn't have a destination in mind. He just wanted somewhere safe to stay for a while until he could calm Ace down. He was worried about him. This wasn't normal acid trauma. There was something else going on, and Trevor was scared for him. He was scared he'd triggered something awful that was about to ruin his mind. Ace would lose his mind and it would be all his fault. The guilt wasn't what he needed at that particular moment.

Ace just sat there in the car next to him, lost in his mind. Trevor didn't bother trying to talk to him. He wasn't sure it would help. He wasn't even sure what he'd say to him either. He'd settled for referring to him as male like he'd always done, if only to avoid getting him upset. He wasn't sure he understood it, but he loved Ace too much. He was willing to try anyway. It didn't seem like there was much of a relationship left to salvage though as they drove off into the night.

* * *

Carl pulled up outside Trevor's house at 4am, hoping they'd been sensible enough to stay put. Breaking in, just to make sure they hadn't disappeared on him, he and Bev went inside to see if they were there. They didn't stay long. One look at the place and it was clear they'd already left. Ace had smashed the television again and ripped the phone apart, as if looking for bugs. There was no point in staying. They returned to the van and drove off.

Well, that had fucked up Carl's plans. With no way of knowing where they'd got to, there was no chance Carl was waiting for them. He'd just have to go on with his business and hope they'd got away. He'd planned to pick them up and run a few errands of their own before they left the city. Carl had counted the money he'd stolen and there was plenty to split between them all. He had over £15,000 in clean notes. All they had to do was get out of the country.

As he drove, he remembered a contact he'd met a couple of times who might be able to help. He'd already made Bev agree not to ask any questions about his plans. It was safer that way. Turning around, they doubled back. They'd get out of there one way or another, and if anyone dared follow them, he'd just shoot them down like he always did. Maybe, one day, when it was safer, he'd tell them all the secrets he carried around in his head. He'd only been trying to protect them from the worst of it. Maybe one day they'd forgive him for everything he'd done.

* * *

Ace and Trevor hit a roadblock just before dawn, having taken several back roads and detours in order to make it harder for them to be tracked. It had taken longer, and it made Trevor worry less about the fact that he didn't really know where he was going. He was tired and eager to find somewhere to rest and eat, but he'd found nowhere he felt safe yet. Ace wasn't even up to driving either, so he couldn't stop just yet.

Just as they hit a bend in the road, a dark coloured van drove in front of them, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Cursing, Trevor braked hard and swerved to avoid the van, only to head off the road into a ditch. The shock jolted them both, and Ace was desperately pulling on the door handle, trying to get free. Before Trevor could get his door open, he noticed the army of men that had appeared. They quickly surrounded the car, and Trevor wondered if they were going to get out of this alive.

Trevor managed to get his door open, and he called to Ace to follow him as he ran. Ace hadn't followed. He'd become hysterical and he kicked at the men trying to grab him. He got free and scrambled back into the car, scared out of his mind. They went for him again, but Ace shut and locked the doors on them, hoping it might make them go away.

Trevor watched them swarming the car. "Hey, you leave him alone! He's sick! Don't you dare hurt him!"

They seemed to be ignoring him. He tried to push through them and make them leave. Trevor was pushed back, held firmly by two men. The men never spoke and Trevor could only watch helplessly as Ace was finally dragged out of the car and knocked out with some sort of fine white mist. They picked him up and carried him away. Trevor struggled again and almost broke free, only to see them putting Ace into a helicopter that had just landed. Trevor was let go as soon as the helicopter took off. The men quickly disappeared back into the van.

Trevor ran after them. "No! Bring him back! Where are you taking him? Who are you people?"

He got no answer. He was left alone in the middle of nowhere. He tried to get the car started again, but it wouldn't go. Panic set in. He climbed back into the car and wondered if anyone would come along to help him. He had no idea what else he was supposed to do.

* * *

Trevor was woken mid-morning by a passing lorry. He'd fallen asleep in the car overnight, and it took a moment to remember what had happened. The lorry hadn't stopped, of course, but the noise was enough to wake him. He looked through their bags, searching for any food. He was sure he'd remembered to pack something. He found some biscuits and a thermos of tea. That would have to do.

He tried to think of what he could do. He'd driven for a few hours. It would take him ages to get back. He didn't even know where he was, and the lorry was the only vehicle he'd seen all day. He didn't want to leave the car, but he thought he'd try one last time to get it started before giving up. This time, the engine roared to life, though he wasn't able to get out of the ditch. He'd have to wait til someone else came by who could help get him out.

That took another hour when a tractor appeared from one of the nearby farms. Trevor couldn't have been more relieved when they got his car back on the road again. After waiting around to make sure the car still started, Trevor thanked him, got directions back to Birmingham, and began the long drive home.

Trevor only had one place in mind as he drove. Carl had told him to meet at St Richards that day. He was late, but he hoped they'd wait for him. It was another bloody church, but Trevor had stopped complaining about it by now. A small little church in Kitts Green, it was a safe place to meet when they needed somewhere to go. They'd picked it because it was Roy's church, and it was better to turn up as friends than as random strangers. They could blend in better and a church was a great place to get good character witnesses, should the cops ever come looking. It was the only reason Trevor went whenever they had a free Sunday. He needed all the help he could get.

No one was around when he arrived. There were no cars in the carpark, but the gate was open. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not, so he drove in and decided he'd wait for a while and see if they turned up. Leaning against his car, he lit a cigarette as he waited for Carl and Bev to arrive, hoping they had better news than he did.

He couldn't help thinking about Ace. He hoped he was alright. He hoped whoever had taken Ace were treating him well too. He was still worried sick about him. He could still see Ace's terrified face as he was dragged out of the car and he wondered if he was coping at all. He had no idea who had taken him, though he assumed it was connected to the men who'd been following him. Ace could be anywhere if that was the case. He had no idea why they hadn't taken him too. But they hadn't seemed at all interested in him. They only wanted Ace. So he'd been left alone and afraid. If anything had shown him what a mess they were in, it was that. He'd tell Carl as soon as he saw him, and maybe he'd be able to work out what was going on.

* * *

Roy didn't remember anything that had happened before he woke up in a strange house. His head hurt, and he had been having strange dreams. Something about a mist that had knocked him out, he'd just been about to go to bed (or so he thought), and then... Nothingness. He didn't recognise the room he was in either. It smelt strange, but he couldn't work out quite what it smelt like.

Groggily, he sat up. As he looked around properly, it dawned on him where he was. It looked a lot like his own bedroom. Indeed, they'd even included the small toy dragons he'd collected as a child. They sat on a shelf above his bed, where they always were. He reached up and gave each dragon a kiss and set it back on the shelf again, as if it was enough to save him. It was a ritual he'd performed ever since he was a child and acquired his first dragon. Even if no one else believed they were real, he did, and that was enough.

Why was he back home? That seemed ... odd. But then again, he liked being home. Home was safe. He went to investigate the rest of the house and found many of his instruments there and some music books. He was almost satisfied by this until he noticed the sight outside the window. That was most definitely not right.

He walked over to the nearest window and looked out, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. He appeared to be in some sort of coastal holiday village, though he had no idea where he might be. It appeared to be quite a hilly place, surrounded by mountains on three sides and sea on the fourth.

A vague memory flashed in his head of a warning to run, and a faceless man telling him to hide though he didn't know why, but it quickly faded as he noticed the people walking around. His mind blank, he left the house and headed outside, curious about where he was.  
"Good afternoon, Seventy Four! Care for some chess, dear boy?"

Unsure how he knew he was being addressed, Roy turned to find an old man gesturing him over to the table he was seated at. There were a few others around, also playing chess. Unsure what else to do, Roy went over and sat down opposite him, the white pieces sitting motionless before him.

"Well, it's your move," the man prompted.

Roy glanced down at the chess pieces. He had never been good at chess. He thought for a moment, trying to remind himself of the rules. Gingerly, he moved a pawn forward. He felt that was the safest thing to do.

"Where are we?" Roy asked as the man shifted a rook forward as his first move.

The man laughed. "Why, we're in the Village, dear boy. Where have you been?"

"I- ...I don't. I've been here, that's where. Sorry. My memory's not so good," Roy said, unable to remember being anywhere else.

"Bit young for that, aren't you? Come on, your move, boy," the man said.

Roy thought some more and moved another pawn. He had already resigned himself to losing this game, though that didn't stop the man telling him what he was supposed to be doing when he messed up the rules.

* * *

Bev had spent the morning driving around with Carl. Bev didn't really know what he was doing, but just did as he was told and kept driving. They were late. Carl had said they'd meet Ace and Trevor at eleven, but they'd had to take several detours out of town, and they were running late. After discovering the empty house last night, Carl wasn't terribly confident he'd find Ace and Trevor waiting for them, but he felt they should go and check anyway, just in case.

As they pulled up at the church, they found Trevor waiting for them. Ace appeared to be nowhere in sight. That wasn't a good sign.

"I bloody hope he hasn't lost Ace again," Bev muttered as they got out. "Where have you been? You only-"

Trevor ran over to them, relief flooding his face. "They've got Ace. They took him. I don't know where, but they stopped us, we were driving out west and they took him. All these men in bloody suits. He was going mental. Like, properly crazy. I don't even know why they didn't take me, but they just left me there and they took him. What the hell's going on? Why'd they take him? There was a bloody helicopter come and took him away. He was so scared, Bev, so fucking scared and I couldn't do anything. Ran us off the road, they did. We're in serious trouble, aren't we?"

"They took Ace? Oh, this isn't good. They've got Roy as well. This is bad," Bev said.

Trevor leant against the car, panic setting in. "This isn't happening. Tell me this isn't happening. They've already got Ace and Roy. They're gonna come and take us next, aren't they? They're going to come and take us away and no one will ever find us."

"No, we're getting out of here, that's what we're doing. Get in the van. Throw in whatever you can't bear to leave behind. We haven't got much time," Carl said.

Trevor didn't waste a moment. He grabbed what he could from the car and put them in the back with everything else. Carl had already started engine. Trevor barely had time to get in before Carl sped off, driving as far away from the little church as possible.

"Where are we going?" Trevor asked.

"Don't ask. Just trust me. I've got it all sorted," Carl said.

Trevor desperately wanted to believe him as he watched the houses fly by. Things had definitely changed, and he didn't want to think about it. He gazed out the window, wishing he could run back home again where it was safe.

* * *

The first thing Ace heard was music. Some sort of soft orchestral piece. He lay there for some time, just listening to the music, while he woke up. When he opened his eyes, he didn't recognise the room around him. Slowly, he sat up and wandered around the house he was in. He found the bedroom and was surprised to find it looked a lot like his own bedroom. At least, his mind was convinced it was his room, even though he wasn't actually at home. He had no solid memory of how he'd got there. The last thing he remembered was someone screaming at him to run. He sat up and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his headache away. He lay back and let himself wake up properly.

It was only when he passed by the mirror in the bathroom as he explored the house he found himself in that he noticed what he was wearing. He froze, shocked and horrified by what they'd done to him. His hair was longer, just a little, and clearly styled in a feminine way. His male attire had been replaced with a light blue knee-length dress. After the initial shock wore off, he just stared at his reflection, unsure it wasn't as wrong as he'd initially thought.

Did it feel right? He wasn't sure. His mind seemed convinced he was, well, _male_ , and he was sure he had memories of himself as a boy. Were these a mistake? Had he always been female and somehow... forgotten? He searched for some sort of answer, but found nothing. He couldn't remember. Gingerly, he undressed and stood there naked. His body was most definitely female. His breasts were bigger than he remembered them being, though he couldn't work out why he even thought that. Reaching between his legs, he felt the soft warm folds of skin and the pleasure felt weird. He had spent so long avoiding looking at his naked body that seeing it again was seriously uncomfortable. That brought back a few memories. It didn't feel like his body. It felt like it belonged to someone else.

Someone had found out. Obviously that was the answer. As he stood there, he began to remember what he'd been through. Memories began to float to the surface, filling in the gaps in his mind. He remembered struggling to convince the world he was a boy and not mad like his father. It had always been a struggle. His family had not always been so kind to him and blamed him for making life difficult. He tried to be as manly as possible to avoid being beaten up. It worked until everyone was bigger than him and could hit him harder.

He'd been sectioned. He remembered that now. Fourteen years old, and he'd been sectioned. Locked up in a madhouse for four months. He didn't really remember why. He hadn't been able to finish school either. No one believed he was a boy. They said he was delusional. He'd been given medicine that made him sick. His hands trembled to the point he couldn't even play his bass. What happened after that? He didn't know. His mind was a haze. He came home again and- No one believed him. Hearing his female name in his head brought up waves of distress he thought he'd hidden away.

As he glanced at the shower, it turned on, and he stepped under the water, scrubbing his face with a wash cloth as he tried to remove the make-up they'd applied to his face. The cloth was thrown aside as he sunk to the ground, letting the water wash his tears away. He had never felt quite so distressed, hurt, and angry in his life, and he wanted to tear at his body until it hurt as much as he was hurting inside.

It had never been something he'd talked about, not even with Trevor. In spite of their intimate relationship, Trevor had never seen him naked. Ace couldn't bear to show him that, and the extent of their intimacy was confined to kissing and Ace doing his best to keep Trevor's wandering hands out of his trousers and away from his chest. The few times they'd had sex, he'd always insisted Trevor take him from behind, doing his best to hide his body from him. He was never quite sure he was always able to relax enough to get into it. He didn't want Trevor finding out he wore bandages around his chest. He didn't want Trevor finding out he wasn't male down there.

He stopped at that thought. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn't find it. Some memory that was urging him to remember something, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant so he pushed it aside and told it to be forgotten. He hoped his mind would forget it. He didn't want any more bad memories.

Ace had almost told Trevor once, he remembered that, but he was too scared he'd dismiss it as just part of his craziness. Part of the acid trauma. Just another delusion. Everyone he'd ever known had never believed him. Why should Trevor be any different? But Ace knew he'd always felt like this, even before he'd started taking acid. As a small child, he remembered tearing his dresses off in disgust and his mother scolding him even though she had no idea how to help him.

It had troubled him his whole life and he'd struggled to get anyone to believe him. When he was sixteen, his family had disowned him when he'd told them he wasn't going to be a girl anymore. He'd been kicked out on the streets and only Trevor cared enough to take him under his wing. They'd met at the Pie Stand between gigs and become fast friends. Trevor's house hadn't been any less chaotic, but his mother seemed to like him and was prepared to give him a bed.

But it hadn't stopped the distress. In a house full of boys, the need to keep his body hidden was even greater and it was very stressful. He wasn't sure he was always able to cope with that. They didn't treat him like a girl, but he was torn between those days he felt far too fragile to cope with that, and days when he just wanted to beat them at their own game, just to prove he was a boy. It wasn't an easy way to live. He was often depressed and anxious, courting both suspicion and paranoia, and only Trevor came to his aid. It was how he got on drugs in the first place. Ace had been crying in the bathroom and Trevor offered him a joint. It was all downhill from there.

* * *

No one spoke as Carl drove them away from Birmingham. No one really knew what to say. Carl had handed over the fake passports and visas and told them they were going to France. He wasn't sure if they'd ever see England again. Trevor had tried to argue they should stay and try to rescue Ace and Roy, but Carl wouldn't budge. They'd be no help while they were still in the country. They needed a safe house before they could consider any sort of rescue, which would also involve working out where they'd been taken.

They were heading down to Dover to get the ferry across the Channel. They'd be leaving for good, and Trevor sat in the back, trying not to think about that. He felt he was far too young to be a fugitive. He was far too young for all of this.

Trevor did eventually fall asleep in the back, but he didn't dream. Bev offered to drive, but Carl turned him down. Only he knew where they were going. Only he could get them there. Bev asked again if Carl would tell him what was going on, but he wouldn't give in to that either. That brought their conversation to an end.

* * *

Carl didn't relax until he was on the ferry. He'd kept an eye out for any suspicious cars, just to make sure they weren't being followed. There had been a couple of cars that looked suspicious, but they'd turned off and left him alone halfway along, so he'd stopped worrying. There was nothing to do but wait and see how far they could get before MI5 caught up with them. That was the only thing Carl was certain of. They wouldn't give up without a fight.

"Do you think we can make it?" Bev asked.

"I hope so. I've got contacts in France that will help us. I won't tell you where, for obvious reasons," Carl said.

Bev hadn't expected he would. "So what do we do about the others?"

Carl shrugged. "I'll think about that when we get there. There's no point in doing anything now. It's never wise to drop your guard. They're easy to lose, but they're not stupid. Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious as soon as we get off. I'm sure they'll be on our tail," Carl murmured, gazing around at the other passengers. "Oi, Trev, c'mere."

Trevor pushed away from the car and leant against the wall beside him. "What? What's going on?"

"You seen anyone who looks like they're following us? I'm still not convinced this ship is clean," Carl said. He'd spotted a suspicious looking man several cars away, but it wasn't clear if he was on their tail or not. Certainly he kept glancing in their direction, but as he stayed where he was, he didn't appear to be much of a threat.

"We're still being followed? I thought you'd lost them. I haven't noticed anyone like that," Trevor said.

"I never assume anything. They still want us, and they're not going to give up just because we're on a ferry. Keep your wits about you. We'll need to stay alert if we're going to get out of here," Carl said.

"Like I said, I ain't seen no one. I still don't know why they didn't take me. Charlie, they left me there. They were after Ace. They acted like they didn't give a shit about me. I was in the way. Why? Why would they leave me here and just take Ace? I can't work it out. It's driving me nuts," Trevor said.

"The only reason I can think of is that they're trying to separate us. Keep us isolated. But there are easier ways to do that than picking us off one by one. But it is troubling. I'm not sure Ace is capable of resisting them for very long, not the way he is right now. I don't want to think about what they'll do to him," Carl said.

"Don't talk about that. I don't want to think about that. We'll get him back. We'll go and get him and take him home and he'll be alright. That's what we'll do," Trevor said, trying to convince himself.

Bev wasn't sure it would be that easy. Carl didn't give anything away. Trevor just looked dismayed.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they left the ferry. They drove out of the port and headed south, Carl driving them towards a safe house. Carl hoped they could get there before they were caught. He had seen a couple of suspicious cars waiting near the dock, and while he hadn't seen them since they'd left port, he wasn't ruling out the possibility they were still being tailed. If they'd already gone to so much trouble to get Roy and Ace, they weren't going to stop just because the three of them had crossed the Channel into France.

An hour into their drive, nothing had happened, and they were approaching the small village where the safe house was. Just as they drove in, four black cars appeared from nowhere and blocked the road. Trapped, the three of them tried to run, but there were too many men. They struggled against their captors before they were all knocked out one by one by that fine white mist. They didn't hear the helicopters hovering overhead.

* * *

Carl knew something was wrong as soon as he woke up back in his room. They'd been a little too accurate with their detail, and it only took a quick look out the window to know he was not back home. He tried to remember what had happened, but the details were lost to his mind. He knew something had happened and they'd obviously been brought somewhere else. So where was he? Was he still in France? Where were the others anyway?

Cursing the fact they had not managed to evade capture, he left his house and tried to work out if it was possible to escape. He had no intention of being a prisoner any longer than necessary.

There were a few people about, but they didn't pay much attention to him. He thought he'd better look around and work out what was here, and more importantly, what wasn't here. He didn't know where Ace, Trevor, Bev or Roy were either. He hoped they were okay. He decided he'd look around first and work out a way of escaping, with or without the others.

The village, Carl decided, couldn't possibly be real. It was too perfect. Like something out of a postcard. Beautiful, clean, and orderly, everyone went about their business cheerfully and nonchalantly, unaware of the situation they were in. They'd bought into the reality of the world they were in, and all it did was unsettle Carl. People that happy, that blindly happy, wasn't natural. They greeted him cheerfully enough, and smiled, but Carl felt nothing from them. They were emotionless greetings made out of habit. They might have been robots for all the humanity they showed.

As he walked around, he found the shop, the green where the brass band were playing in the bandstand, and the old person's home, where people sat outside playing chess or chatting to some of the younger people. Everyone appeared to be adults, though. There were no children anywhere at all, and the village had no school. It did, however, have a grave yard. The implication was more than clear to Carl as he headed down to the beach.

He found Trevor down by the seaside, staring out over the water. He looked more irritable than normal. Carl sat down beside him.

"I don't wanna know unless you got some fags. Need a smoke, Charlie, but they won't let me have any. You can't buy them in that pissy little shop. What the hell are work units anyway? Where are we?" Trevor said.

Carl checked his pockets and found they'd taken his cigarettes. "Sorry, I'm all out. When we get out of here, I'll get you some, hey?"

They fell silent as a man fled across the sand and into the sea. People were chasing him, but they stopped at the shoreline, as if they were afraid to go in. The sound of a speedboat could be heard in the distance as it rounded the headland. The escaping man had swum far enough to intercept the boat, and there was a fight before the man stole the speedboat, disappearing as he sped off towards the horizon. Nothing seemed to happen as the men in the boat slowly came ashore. Everyone waited on the beach. Eventually, the escapee was brought back to shore, unconscious, by three big white balloons that appeared to be able to move of their own volition. The man was lifted onto a stretcher and driven away. The balloons patrolled the beach before eventually returning to the sea, vanishing under the waves.

Trevor scoffed at the suggestion. "Hah, like we're getting out of here. I don't think it's possible to get out of here, not if that was anything to go by. We don't even know where we are either. We could be deep in the middle of fucking Russia for all we know."

"I think we'd know if it was Russia. Maybe it's British. But I want to know what that was that we just saw. What did we see down there? What were those balloon things? This place is very weird and I don't like it at all," Carl said.

"Sorry, it's not just British people. Everyone's here. Russians, French, Swedish, Turkish, everyone's here. I think I even saw a couple of Africans. Who the hell's running this place?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Have you seen Bev, Ace or Roy? Are they here too?"

Trevor shrugged. "No idea. If they're here, I haven't seen them. I didn't really look though. I reckon they'd want to separate us or something, right?"

"I don't know what they want. I'm not sure I want to wait around to find out though. Come for a walk. I want to have a look around," Carl said.

* * *

Trevor wasn't as keen on a walk as Carl was, but being with someone he knew was better than staring out at the sea alone. They talked quietly as they walked, Carl making a mental map of the village as they went. He assumed they were being watched, given all the visible cameras and tannoys around the place. The question then, was how to escape. He wanted to see those balloons again, just to see what they were and what they were capable of. Obviously he'd have to get past those particular things if he was going to get out of this village.

The village was very small and isolated. All the maps of the area were filled with veritable 'Here Be Dragons' areas in the mountains beyond the village. There was no way of knowing what was beyond the mountains, and Carl didn't dare trying his luck just yet. He didn't know enough about what he was up against. The sea could lead to anywhere, and there was no visible land that he could see from the vantage points he could find. Maybe it was an island they were on and it was out in the middle of the ocean.

They walked back towards the sea and the large sandy beach stretching out from the land. As they walked down past the boat moored against the peer, Carl saw a very familiar face skulking about, leaning against the walls in the shadows. He held a cigarette loosely between his fingers, smoking it as if it was the last one he had left.

"I thought I'd shot you," Carl said as he approached.

Tony glanced at him, resenting the fact he'd survived long enough to be saved and captured by the people he'd been trying so hard to escape from. "I thought I taught you to shoot better. Make sure I'm dead next time." He noticed Trevor behind Carl and saw how scared he looked. Trevor had no idea what he'd got himself into. "So why are you here then? What's he even doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Carl replied.

There was silence between them for a moment. Tony offered them a cigarette from a small tin. There were only three left. Carl and Trevor accepted gladly, and Trevor could finally feel his nerves calm a little as he inhaled. He'd never been so glad to smoke before. Leaning back against the wall, he tuned out of their conversation.

"Truce? There's no point in being enemies here. They'd just manipulate it for their own ends," Tony said, offering his hand.

Carl thought a moment before taking his hand. "Truce. For the moment."

"You know, they were on me as soon as you'd left. Stormed the place and brought me here. I didn't think you'd get brought here too, though."

Carl shrugged. "I know too much. That's why they want me. I don't know if the rest of the band are here though, apart from Trevor. I can't think why they would bring them here. They don't know anything."

"Oh, they'll be here too, somewhere, you just need to find them. I don't know if they'll still remember who they are though. This place fucks with your head," Tony said. "I think I saw Bevan in the hospital though."

"What was he doing in there?"

"I don't know. It might not've been him. It was just, I was having some sort of medical, and there was this nurse who looked a lot like him across the corridor, but she was a woman. So maybe it wasn't him."

"So, are we getting out of here then? Because I sure as shit aren't hanging around to find out what they want," Carl said.

Tony stifled a laugh. "Hah, you think I haven't already tried? It's impossible. They just bring you back. Watch out for those big white balloons. They aren't as benign as they look. I don't know what they are, but they're dangerous. They call it Rover. God knows why. Even if we could escape, without knowing where we are now, it's impossible to plan an escape. I'm sure you've already worked that out."

"You haven't told them anything, have you?"

Tony looked at him as if he'd just asked him if he was an idiot. "I've been in this business a lot longer than you have. I think I know when to keep my bloody mouth shut."

"Alright. So who's running this place anyway? Any ideas?"

"No. They don't tell you that either. Could be anyone. I doubt they've got our best interests at heart, though. They just want information. I hope you haven't told them anything either."

Carl thought a moment, unsure how reliable his memories were. "If I have, I can't remember doing so. I don't remember anything much between fleeing and waking up here."

"I didn't either. Most don't. Like I said, they fuck with your head here. How far did you get anyway?"

"France. I'm sure you know where we were heading. But they got us, obviously."

"France? I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd get out of the city. You've learnt a lot."

Carl shrugged. "They'd already taken Ace and Roy. I had to get them out of there any way I could."

They paused a moment to enjoy their cigarettes, knowing they were probably the last they would have for quite some time. Trevor just wished he had some weed. Tobacco just wasn't enough at that moment.

Carl broke the silence. "So what do we do?"

Tony stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. "Nothing. Do nothing. They're probably expecting us to meet up and give each other away. I'd advise you to keep your wits about you. They'll get you to sell me out eventually. Don't promise me you won't because I know that's bullshit. You're too young to resist them for long. I just hope for your sake that the price is worth it."

Carl wanted to promise he wouldn't sell him out, but didn't say it aloud. He couldn't think of what they could offer that would make him grass on him. He also wanted to prove he was as strong and resilient as he was and get out of this village with his mind in one piece, with or without Tony by his side. He still felt a strange loyalty towards him, and even though Tony was a dangerous man, Carl knew he could trust him. He had to trust him. He was the only ally in this village he had, and like it or not, they'd have to work together.

Tony moved off then, saying a curt goodbye to them both. Trevor watched him go. He didn't understand what was going on, and he doubted Carl would bother to tell him. Carl grabbed his arm and they headed off back to the Village.

* * *

A week passed. Nothing dramatic happened, as far as Carl was concerned. He still couldn't find Roy or Ace, though he had met Tony a few times. They didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. Tony had just shown him where it was safe to talk, and Carl wondered how close he was to cracking. Tony appeared to be cracking slowly under the pressure, and the last time he'd seen him, he sounded as though he was close to a breakdown. Carl worried about him, but there wasn't anything he could do. Tony had told him to fuck off and mind his own business.

At least Carl had now seen the nurse who looked like Bev that Tony had mentioned. She was a proper woman too, so it wasn't like Bev was just dressing up or something. Carl had tried to talk to her as he caught her on her way to the hospital, but she'd been too busy and had left him alone.

Carl had started seeing her everywhere now. It seemed he was being followed again, though she never approached close enough for Carl to talk to her. It was a nuisance he didn't need. He was still doing recon with Trevor, trying to get a better idea of the land around them so he could pick the best way to escape. He wasn't convinced there was no way to escape. There had to be a way out. He just had to find it.

They'd discovered that the sculture garden had no microphones. The busts were cameras only, and without the fear of being overheard, they could talk more freely. It was there that Carl decided to confront fhe nurse who'd been following him around, hoping to work out what was going on. Slipping behind some bushes, he waited for her to come into view.

She approached where he was hiding and looked around, thinking she'd lost him. Seeing her up close, she really did look like Bev, though why he was suddenly female, Carl had no idea. He waited for the right moment before stepping out and grabbing her arm. She was surprised and pulled away a little.

"You've been following me," Carl said.

"Not following, observing. I'm only supposed to watch you," she said.

"Watch me and report me to whoever's running this place, I suppose. Who is in charge here?" Carl said.

"Number Two's in charge. I'm not supposed to talk to you. I should go," she said, pulling her arm free.

"Who's Number Two? Whose side is he on?" Carl said.

"How should I know? I'm just an observer. I don't ask questions. A still tongue makes a happy life," she said.

Carl paused as one of those big white balloons appeared. Carl had learnt its name, Rover, as if it was supposed to be a guard dog. They did appear to bark, in a mechanical and slightly disturbing manner. It drifting slowly and ominously past them. It was hard to tell just what they were, but they were always dangerous. No one liked Rover. Big white balloons that could kill did tend to inspire fear in the prisoners. Staying still, they watched as it passed by them, seemingly unconcerned by their presence. They didn't start talking again until it was out of sight.

"Who are you really? You look an awful lot like a friend of mine, but he's most definitely a man. Who are you?" Carl said.

"I'm Number Fifty Two, that's who I am. I don't know why you think I look like a man. I've never met this friend of yours. I don't know who you're talking about," she said.

"What's your name? Do you even have a name? Why does everyone have numbers around here?" Carl said.

"It's just how things are in the Village. I don't ask questions," she said anxiously.

"No, of course you don't. Take me to this Number Two then. I want to meet my captor," Carl said.

She resisted for a moment, but relented. "He lives in the green dome. I'll take you there, but that's all."

Carl was pleased with this and followed her as they left the sculture garden.

* * *

The door opened as soon as they approached it. The dwarf-sized butler led them down a short corridor and into a large round room, presumably under the green dome that sat on top of the building. It was spartan, dark grey, and didn't appear to have any windows. Number Two smiled as he greeted them. Carl didn't know what to make of him.

"Ahh, Number Eighteen! How are you settling in? Yes, I did mean to meet you before now, but I've been so busy with Number Ten. Oh he has such a stubborn mind, but he will give me information in time, yes he will. Everyone does in the end. Even you, I'd wager," he said as he approached, greeting him like a long-lost son. His voice was rich and genial, with no obvious hint of cruelty.

"The name's Carl. I'm not a number. Who are you? Who do you work for?" Carl said.

He had a round face, and he smiled in an infurating manner. Carl had to resist the urge to punch him. "I am Number Two, dear boy, and I am in charge here. How do you like our little Village? It's a lovely little Village, don't you think?"

Carl wasn't sure he agreed. "Why am I even here? What have I done to get brought to a place like this?"

The smile faded from his face. "You have information we want, that's why." Number Two pressed a button on the console and Tony's picture appeared on the screen on the wall off to one side. "You know Number Ten, don't you? We know you do. We know everything about you."

Carl didn't react, not wanting to give away anything. "What do you want from me? I don't know anything. None of us do. I know you've brought my friends here too, you know. Why are we here?"

"Oh, don't worry, they're all safe. Safe and healthy and happy. Oh yes, your friend, the blonde one, she's in hospital though. She's very sick, you know, but she's getting the best treatment possible. This is her, isn't it?"

Number Two pressed another button, and Ace could be seen in bed, just sitting there numbly. He had bandages wrapped around his arms. A small cat was sitting beside him. Ace didn't appear to notice the cat was even there.

"That's him," Carl corrected. "He's male. Why are you referring to him as female?"

"But she is such a lovely young woman. Haven't you ever noticed? Oh, she is good. Shall we go see her? She's fine, just a little accident. She's healing marvellously. We'll have her better in no time," Number Two said.

"Ace is male. Don't you _dare_ call him a woman," Carl said and punched him.

Number Two staggered a little, but seemed to take the punch in good humour. There was laughter in his voice as he replied. "Oh, that's very interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"What's interesting? Are you going to let me out of here? I'm hardly of any importance to you. I don't know anything," Carl said.

Number Two laughed and slapped him across the shoulders. "Oh, you are going to be such a delicious challenge, dear boy. I shall enjoy working on you."

Carl didn't stay to talk further and left.

* * *

Number Fifty Two went to follow him, but Number Two held her back. "No, stay here. Let him go. The cameras will track him for the moment. How is he anyway?"

"He says he recognises me, but I've never met him before in my life. I don't know why he says I know him," Number Fifty Two said.

Number Two brushed her hair gently. He snapped his fingers and she fell into a light hypnotic state. "Oh, you do know him, my dear, but you've forgotten all about it. I needed your objectivity for this assignment, but I've had a better idea. I want you to befriend him this time. Get to know him. You remember him now, don't you? See all those memories coming to mind. He just never noticed your female form. Maybe we should change that. Yes, scrap that. We'll see if a male form doesn't make him more trusting."

Number Fifty Two wasn't aware of coming out of the trance as she was carried away, deep into the bowels of the building. Number Two sat back and watched Carl walking towards the hospital, wondering if he might've finally found his breaking point.

* * *

Ace was in hospital. He didn't really remember why, but the bandages on his arms suggested he'd done something stupid to end up there. The voices had come back at full volume now, and they were both panicked and cruel, unsure what to make of their new situation. Ace just ignored them, sitting in bed numb with pain. He'd asked for his bass guitar many times, but they said he was still too weak to play. He might damage his arms again. They wouldn't give him anything with strings anyway. Ace hated them for that. His hands trembled again. He couldn't shake his fear about what that meant.

Too much had happened to him. So much, he had no real memory of anything that had happened to him. It had all become a bit of a blur, and his mind was in such a mess he wasn't even sure what reality was anymore. His memories, such as they were, had become completely unreliable. He had no way of knowing whether what the nurses were telling him was the truth, forcing him to accept whatever they told him. He still had no idea where he was, apart from a hospital ward. They all looked the same after a while.

The only thing that kept jumping out at him as being wrong, even if he didn't quite know why, was that everyone referred to him as a girl. They called him Christine when they weren't calling him Forty Six, as if a number was just as good as a name. They made him wear girl things. If Ace had any spare mental capacity left, he'd have made a scene, but he just didn't have the energy. The bed was sapping everything from him and he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything.

He was vaguely aware of doctors talking all around him, but he couldn't understand a word they said. He didn't know why he was here. No one had told him anything. They kept saying they wanted information, but it was the most infuriating thing ever. Ace kept asking what kind of information, and they never replied. He didn't know what to tell them, if he even knew anything at all they might be remotely interested in.

A female psychiatrist sat on his bed then, and gently touched his shoulder. Ace didn't notice the small cat disappear under the bed. "Number Forty Six. Can you hear me? You've been having a psychotic episode, but it's alright. We've given you some medicine to make you better. Are you alright? Do you remember what happened? Can you understand me?"

Ace looked at her. He did understand her. He thought she looked familiar, but couldn't work out where he knew her from. "I- I don't. I'm a boy. Stop making me a girl. It's horrible having to wear these things. You're as bad as my mother."

"No, dear, that's the psychosis. It's just a delusion. You're not a boy. Why would you think that?" the psychiatrist said.

Ace wasn't surprised he hadn't been believed, but it didn't make it hurt less. No one ever believed him. "I'm a boy. I knew that before I went mad. It's real. I promise, it's real. It's not madness. It's the truth. Let me be a boy. Please. I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know, but let me be a boy. I can't bear being a girl any longer. It hurts too much. Next time I might just succeed. The voices will make me succeed. For once, they're all on my side. They'll help me escape this place, one way or another."

She left his bed and Ace sat there, wondering if they'd ever believe him.

"I think we need to increase the dosages. She's not improving," the psychiatrist said.

"Talk to Number Two. See what he thinks. Tell him about her offer. He might just go for it this time. It's been four weeks. It might be the only way we'll crack her," the other doctor replied.

Ace just curled up into himself, hands covering his ears. He didn't like what they were saying at all, and he didn't want them cracking or breaking him any further. Who was Number Two anyway? Had he really been here for four weeks? The voices didn't offer any comfort or reassurance and they fell silent as he wept, unable to find a way out of this situation.

* * *

Carl had thought about not going to see Ace just yet, but the opportunity was too hard to resist, and he went straight there. Ace looked just like he had on the screen before, sitting numbly in bed, staring at the wall. Carl sat down beside him and reached for his hand. Carl could feel his hands trembling as he held them gently. Slowly, Ace looked over at him.

"I don't- I don't know where I am. Who are you? Another doctor? You're not going to give me any more medicine, are you?" Ace said.

Carl rested a hand on his shoulder. "Ace, it's me, Charlie. I promise you, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you. Are you alright?"

Ace just stared at him, unsure he recognised him. He wanted to reach up and touch him, but his arms felt too weak. "Charlie?"

"Yeah, it's me, Charlie. You remember me, don't you?"

Ace stared at him. He did look familiar, but he just couldn't remember. He desperately searched for some memory of him, some way of placing him in his life. It took a while, but his confusion turned to joy as he finally recognised the man before him. He remembered him, and knew his mind wasn't making that up. It was an anchor to reality he desperately needed.

"Oh, Charlie, finally, someone I know! I thought I was here all alone," Ace said as he pulled Carl into a tight hug. He didn't care if his arms hurt. "They think I'm a girl, Charlie, but I'm not, you know that, right? I'm not a girl."

Carl hugged him back, and he could feel the subtle difference in his chest. "I know you're not a girl. I told them that. What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

"They said I went mad and I need their care now, but I don't know if I trust them at all. I don't know what they're saying half the time. When can we get out of here? I want to go home," Ace said, clutching onto him.

Carl tried to look optimistic. "I don't know. I really don't. I haven't worked out if there even is a way to get out of here, but don't worry, I'll figure something out, alright?"

"Charlie? Where's home? I can't remember where home is. I don't have a family. I can't see them," Ace murmured.

"Birmingham's home. You live with Trevor. Don't you remember that? I don't know about your family though. I don't think I've ever met them," Carl said.

Ace remained silent for a while, searching his memories again. "Is that real? I just don't know. Who's Trevor? Is he my brother? Why are my memories so messed up? I can't remember anything. Who am I?"

Carl hugged him tight again, wondering if he'd ever be able to fix his mind. "You're Ace, that's who you are. Ace Kefford. Best bloody bassist in the world. Do you remember that?"

Ace just stared at him, unsure if he could believe him. "Ace Kefford." He thought for a moment, parsing the name in his mind. "Ace the Bass. That's me, isn't it? And home is Birmingham. But this isn't home. I'm not at home. Where are we, Charlie?"

"I told you, I don't know where we are. But don't worry, we won't be here forever. I'll get us out of here, alright?" Carl said, trying to reassure him.

Carl looked him over, seeing how thin he was. Ace had never looked quite so frail before. He'd always been pretty slender, but it seemed more obvious now. His hair was a little longer too. He could see his breasts through his shirt, small though they were. There was no doubt as to what they were. Carl almost reached for them, just to prove to himself they were real, but decided against it.

"You really are a girl, aren't you? At least, your body is. You told me before, but I never quite believed it."

Ace pulled away and curled up, burying his face in his arms. "Don't make me tell you. It's too shameful. I wish it was something they'd done to me, but it isn't. Don't make me tell you, alright? I don't want to talk about it."

Carl almost pursued it, but Ace was too distressed. He wasn't going to upset him any further. "Alright, I won't ask. I promise."

Ace didn't reply. He sat there crying, too ashamed to show his face. A nurse tending to another patient suggested Carl should leave him for a while. Carl got the impression it was an order, not a suggestion, and left, promising to come back and see him again.

* * *

Roy woke up in a strange room. His mind hesitated to suggest it was 'the next day' because there was no way to tell. The room had plain walls and no windows. There was no clock either, though what help that would've been, he didn't know. He could've been anywhere at any time of the day. He could've been asleep for days. He felt groggy and tired and it took a while before he felt like sitting up.

There didn't appear to be anyone in the room. Just as he was about to swing off the bed he was lying on, a man entered. Roy wasn't entirely sure he'd seen him before. It was hard to tell. He had a feeling everyone looked the same after a while.

"Ahh, you're awake now! Good show. You were out longer than we expected. Sleep well, my boy?" Number Two said a little too cheerfully.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why am I even here? Have I done something wrong?" Roy said.

"No, no, nothing like that. We just want to talk to you, don't we? Now, come here, I have someone I want you to meet," Number Two said.

Roy hadn't seen the cage hidden away in a corner behind where he'd been sleeping. A man was sat inside, cramped into the small space. Number Two dragged the tip of his umbrella against the bars and the man inside looked up, giving him a contemptuous glare.

"I believe you know this man, Number Seventy Four. You do know him, don't you?" Number Two said, urging Roy to take a closer look.

"I-I don't - what's going on? Why is he in a cage?" Roy said.

"He knows nothing, I made sure of that. Why are you persisting in keeping him here?" Tony said from the cage.

"Oh, they know something. They're smart boys. I just want them to tell me everything they know. Then I'll set them free. After all, it's you I'm after, not them," Number Two said.

"Roy, don't trust them. Don't believe a word he says. Bloody liars, the lot of them," Tony growled.

Roy looked at Tony, then back at Number Two, unsure who to believe. Tony hadn't exactly been honest with him in the first place, but he had no reason to trust this other man either. He was filled with indecision. So he ran away, pushing past Number Two as he fled from the room.

* * *

Roy ran into Carl as he left Number Two's house. They both came crashing to the ground, and it took a moment for Carl to realise who he'd bumped into as Roy got to his feet, apologising profusely.

"Roy. Roy, it's me, Carl. You alright? What are you doing here?" Carl said, picking himself up.

Roy stopped and looked at him. It took a moment to remember him, but the relief on his face made him bring Carl into a hug. Roy had been quite convinced he'd been all alone in this lonely village, but that wasn't true, not anymore.

"Charlie, thank God you're here. They've got Tony, he was in a cage in there, I saw him, I swear. What's going on? I don't know what's going on anymore," Roy said.

"Come with me. It's not safe to talk here," Carl said, taking his hand as he led him off to Trevor's house.

* * *

Number Two didn't appear to mind that Seventy Four had fled. He smiled gleefully and strolled out to the hallway, closing the door behind him. He decided not to call the guards on the wayward Seventy Four. He just needed more time to think about his position.

Number Two returned to the control room to watch where he went. Seventy Four had run into Eighteen, and Number Two watched them with interest as they made their way to the sculpture garden, the cameras following their every move.

Number Fifty Two was by his side, watching the vision with him. He recognised his friends and wanted to go meet them. He remembered them now, and wasn't sure why he didn't before. He was sure he'd seen them about the place, but this was the first time he'd really recognised them.

"Shall I go meet them? Carl's learnt there's no audio out there," Number Fifty Two said.

"Number Eighteen is a clever chap, that's for sure. I wonder who told him that. Yes, why don't you go meet them? Befriend them this time, and make sure you report back to me about any escape attempts. I want to see what they'll do now that you're all together," Number Two said.

With no further reply, Number Fifty Two set off. Number Two sat back with a cup of tea, waiting.

* * *

After meeting up with Trevor, Carl took them all down into a small clearing in the woods past the busts where the cameras weren't able to reach. It was the only place he had been told he couldn't be observed at all. Trevor and Roy had never been there before, and they looked to Carl to tell them what on earth was going on.

Carl reached into one of the tree roots and pulled out a small tin of cigarettes. Tony had told him about it some time ago. Neither knew how they'd got there, but there seemed to be a decent supply of them. It was as if someone had hidden them there some time ago, but he'd never come to retrieve them so they'd just sat there, waiting for someone else to find them.

Trevor was just happy to have another smoke. He had grown far too irritable without them, and now he had half a tin stashed away in a pocket with some matches. He wasted no time in lighting up, inhaling deeply. He leant back against a tree, finally able to relax.

Carl looked to Roy as he lit up. "So you actually saw Tony in there? In a cage? What was he doing in there?"

"I don't know. I can't tell you where it was either. I went to sleep in one of those houses, and then I woke up in this strange room. And there was Tony in a cage. He said we can't trust them. He said they lied to us. Charlie, please, tell me what's going on. How much trouble are we in?" Roy said.

Carl considered his answer. "I'm still adamant that you don't need to know. They want Tony because he knows too much. Don't make yourself more valuable to them than you have to. You might actually get out of here if they think you don't know anything."

"You don't know that. They could just keep us here for eternity. You've seen the graveyard. People don't leave the village. They die here. I'm too young to die in a stinking place like this," Trevor said.

"Alright, so if we're not going to stay here, how do we get out of here? Because I don't think it'll be easy at all. They don't bring you to a place like this if it's easy to escape," Carl said. "We'll have to get Ace too. He's in the hospital. It won't be easy getting him out of there, and I'm not leaving him behind."

"How can we escape anyway? How can we possibly outsmart that lot? I've seen people trying to get out of here. They always come back. How can we beat those odds?" Trevor said.

A man stepped out from behind the trees. "Charlie, is that you? What's going on here?"

Carl turned to find Bev standing there between a couple of trees, just watching them. "Hullo, Bev. Come here, I was wondering where you were. How'd you find us here?"

Bev approached them cautiously. "Oh, I saw you and followed you. I haven't seen anyone else here I knew and there you were with Trevor and Roy and I followed. Sorry if I crept up on you."

Carl greeted Bev with a warm hug, pleased to see him there. "I was wondering what had happened to you. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, bit confused but I'm fine. Where are we?" Bev said.

"The Village, that's where. But don't worry, we'll get out of here. We won't stay here forever," Carl said.

"I don't like your chances of getting out of here. What's going on? Why are we here anyway? I'd swear, we're the youngest people here by at least a decade or two. Don't you think that's strange?" Bev said.

Carl looked at them incredulously. "They're spies. Retired spies, sure, but still, they're spies. Surely you've worked that out by now. You can't all be that daft."

"Spies? How did we get caught up with spies? I thought - I never thought it was that bad. We're in serious trouble," Roy said.

"Just a little, yeah. Come on, let's go back before they get suspicious," Carl said, finishing his cigarette.

* * *

Another quiet week passed. They had decided not to socialise together openly, lest someone think they were up to something. They only ever met up twice. Once in the woods at night, having slipped out before curfew, and another time at the hospital with Ace. The rest of the time, they mostly kept to themselves, keeping their heads down as they waited.

Carl kept to himself, keeping an eye out for anything that might help them escape. He used his natural charm to befriend the spies around him, wondering if they had anything of value to tell him. Most didn't, but Carl didn't mind. He thought it was a useful exercise, and anyway, he liked talking to people. It stopped him being bored, and he'd always felt it was the best way to learn anything.

Roy was sick of chess by the end of the week. He'd been roped into playing with the old people, and he was becoming very good at losing. He was getting better at not losing in the first five moves, that's for sure, but it didn't help much. He preferred playing with the brass band. That was much more fun, and they put on concerts almost every day. That was definitely more fun than chess.

Trevor wasn't sure what he'd done to end up with a generous supply of joints and a lighter by his bed, but there was nothing but a blissful peace in his mind now, and he spent the week drifting in and out of his mind, chasing a never-ending high. A small voice at the back of his mind suggested he'd named it as his price for selling the others out, but he couldn't quite accept that. He was just pleased he had some weed. God he'd missed being high.

* * *

Ace was still in hospital. His hands were still shaking, and the tremors had passed to his legs now. Walking was difficult, but not impossible if he supported himself properly. His mind a haze of confusion, panic and fear. A memory had been triggered. It had not been a pleasant memory at all. He could barely find the strength to articulate it. He was quite sure it had actually happened; if it was a mere fiction, he might have just left it alone. Never had he wanted to escape the hospital as much as he did at that moment. He wasn't safe there anymore, he was sure of it. They would just... They would just. They just would. Ace was sure none of the doctors or nurses could be trusted anymore. They would hurt him like the other ones had.

He waited until night before getting out of bed. There was no one else in his ward, and he was grateful for that. He sort of knew where he was going, but he wasn't entirely confident. He walked unsteadily down corridor after corridor, searching for a way out, leaning against the wall for support.

A nurse called after him as he passed by her, but Ace didn't stop. Couldn't stop. He ran then, forcing his legs to run. He ran as fast as he could. He found the way out, and ran out into the night.

He had no idea where he was and fled towards the woods. They seemed the safest place to go. He was sure anywhere that was part of the Village wasn't safe. The trees would provide cover for him. He climbed a tree. Huddled in the branches, he began to feel a little safer. He could hear them searching for him. He hoped they wouldn't find him.

His hands shook with fear. His legs felt weak. His mind - he wasn't sure he was thinking clearly, but he didn't care. He felt safer now that he was away from people who he was sure would only seek to hurt him.

He didn't dare come down until everything was silent again. Scared and cold, he made his way through the woods, looking for a way out, leaning against a tree every now and then when he felt his knees about to give up on him. But the problem with woods was that they were not a path, and Ace soon discovered he was more than a little lost. When he finally saw the edge of the woods, he ran towards it, only to find himself confronted by a giant white balloon that appeared to be growling at him menacingly. Ace had no idea what it was and it frightened him terribly.

Ace tried to run past it, tried to back away from it, but it moved too fast. Crushed against a tree, it suffocated him as it overwhelmed him. Unconsciousness quickly followed.

* * *

Carl had been to see Number Two several times, not always of his own choosing. Somehow, they'd worked out Carl was the only one who knew anything of interest, and had spent the time probing his mind for information. Carl wasn't sure who had sold him out, but with no further information to go on, he hadn't had a chance to ask anyone about it. Carl did vaguely remember them raiding his dreams, forcing him to dream about certain things. Reliving the night he stole the money and shot Tony wasn't exactly his decision, but it did rather implicate him more deeply than he'd wanted.

He also dreamt about the first time he'd killed someone. He had thought he'd forgotten that particular moment, but his mind had stubbornly held onto the memory. He relived the night in vivid detail, from the car to the gun he was using to his friend Wilf driving him to the meeting place.

He'd been nervous as hell, and even though he'd practiced with the gun, he still didn't feel confident with it. Still, no one else could do it, and if Tony hadn't had him over a barrel, he might've declined. It wasn't even just scaring the pants off some lowlife gangsters. He'd been hired to kill. Watching Wilf drive off, he went to meet the target. He was waiting for him in a park. He knew better than to let him talk though. The only way Carl could make himself do it was to pluck up the courage to just shoot him first and run like hell.

Coming up behind him, he fired into his head, watching him collapse to the ground. He shot him a few more times, just to make sure, and turned back, hiding the gun as he went to find the car again. Wilf drove him home to his place. They'd talked, though Carl hadn't remembered what about. They'd drunk a lot of beer. Wilf made that first mark on his arm, inking that first kill in black into his skin. Carl had asked if it ever got easier. Wilf couldn't offer him any advice, but said he'd always be there for him.

It was one of the few nights he'd ever spent genuinely praying to God, trying to convince himself he'd done the right thing. He hadn't slept, but maybe he'd talked himself into it enough to go home and pretend like nothing had happened. It had been so hard not to tell the rest of the band, and once he got back, he couldn't quite look at them the same way. He still saw the man he'd killed in his mind, but he learnt to push it aside. He had to, if he was going to keep on living and not go mad from guilt.

* * *

Bev watched over him as he dreamed, trying to make his conscience accept what he was doing to his friend. He was trying to accept what Carl had done. Seeing Carl actually kill people seemed to justify what Bev was doing to him. But he was still his friend, wasn't he? Bev couldn't decide. They played out each kill on the screen. Each time, Bev saw the black lines on his arm increase by one. Bev knew the moment Carl had come to do it automatically. There was no compassion in his heart anymore as he slaughtered them. Bev was discovering just how deep Carl had gone and what he'd done. He wasn't sure he'd ever wanted to know, not really, now that he was seeing it before his eyes.

Number Two watched over them both, and it was enough to silence any protest Bev wanted to make. Carl lay there, strapped to a bed, and Bev had to watch Carl revealing those tattooes on his arm to him and what they meant. He wanted to be sick then. He hadn't wanted to remember that.

"I don't know anything, I swear. Charlie wouldn't tell me anything," Bev murmured.

"He told you about those marks. He told you how many he'd killed.You've just seen them. He trusts you that much. He'll tell you more than that if you get close enough to him," Number Two said.

Bev shook his head. "No, he won't. You think I haven't tried to get him to talk? He won't tell me anything. He says he's trying to protect us. We can't tell you what we don't know. And I've told you all I know."

Number Two didn't look disappointed. "I do hate it when they have such stubbornly good morals. No, I think we will have to try something else. He knows more than he's letting on, and I want to know what that is. We may have to try a more extreme method of extracting his memories."

"He might know more than us, but doesn't know everything, that much I do know. I saw some of his dreams before. He said he didn't know about the international stuff, whatever that means, but he knows other things. I know he does. You'll have to trick him into telling you though. He won't tell you easily," Bev said, afraid what might happen to him.

"That is interesting. I was wondering how close he and Number Ten were. Not as close as I thought they were, it seems," Number Two mused.

Bev shrugged. "They were never close. I'm pretty sure they hated each other, but it was never an issue while we were still scared of him. But Carl's not scared of him anymore. Why do you think he shot him? I don't know if you could ever make him trust you enough to betray Tony though. Carl's trying to get out of here, and he's not interested in bringing Tony with him. I think he'd rather be rid of him, but I don't know if that's enough to make him talk either. He's deeply suspicious of everyone here."

"You leave him to me, Number Fifty Two. I have my ways. Thank you for being so cooperative though. I have not quite decided what to do with you yet. I could let you go home, but maybe you'd rather live in bliss here instead. I can offer you freedom here, and you'd be ever so happy," Number Two said.

That wasn't an offer Bev was expecting. He didn't reply, and he watched Number Two dismantling the machinery around Carl's head. The dreams went away and Bev knew he'd sold him out. He could never tell Carl, no way. He knew Carl would kill him if he ever found out what he'd done.

"Let us go home, me, Trevor, Ace and Roy. I promise, we'll never speak of this place again. We don't know anything, we've told you all we know. Just let us go home," Bev said.

"Alright, you can go home. You'll be made to forget this place though. And him. You must be properly prepared first so you can't reveal what you know. This is not an offer I make to everyone. Most people who come here, stay for life. These people are all dead. Retired, if you will. Most resigned, so they have no life to go back to anyway. They've told us all they know, and now they live here in harmony. Blissful peace. They're so happy this way. We can't let them go. It would be too traumatic to send them back to the real world now. I'm sure you understand," Number Two said.

Bev wasn't sure why he was being told all this if he was just going to forget it later on. Maybe that was exactly why he was being told. It wouldn't matter. He would forget it. "Can you make Ace better? I know he's not well. Can't you do something for him? Can't you give him a proper male body? If you can make me a woman, you can make him a man."

"Don't worry, I've had my best doctors looking into it. I think we might just have the right treatment this time," Number Two said confidently.

Bev hoped he was right. The last thing he wanted was for Ace to be upset and sick, and if this was the only way to make sure that happened, so be it.

* * *

Carl woke in his house feeling drowsy and tired. He had no memory of what had happened this time, but his sleeve was rolled up, revealing the seven marks on his arm. He suspected they had discovered what he'd done. He didn't know how, but he suspected he'd never know. He sat up, pulling his sleeves down. He didnt need a reminder of what he'd done and he pushed the memories out of his head.

He reached for his cigarettes and lit up as he thought about what to do. He still wanted to escape, especially if they knew about the murders. He was hardly going to stick around when they knew he'd killed spies. He'd done some recon down by the beach and seen some of the caves. He'd been stashing some supplies down there all week in preparation for some sort of escape attempt. He still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get away, but Tony had told him he thought he'd worked out where they were, and someone he'd known had promised he could get them a boat.

Stubbing out his cigarette in a makeshift ashtray, he grabbed his jacket and headed out to find Tony. The sooner they were out of there, the better.

* * *

Number Two intercepted him by the ship. Carl almost pushed past him and kept going, but Number Two stopped him.

"I wouldn't bother, Number Eighteen, we've taken care of all that muck you've been collecting down there. You really ought to settle down, my boy. You've got everything you could ever want here. Why would you want to escape?"

Carl decided not to reply. He wasn't sure he wouldn't smack him in the face. If Rover hadn't been hovering nearby, he felt he might've smacked him anyway.

Number Two came round to face him, taking his arm. "Come now, you don't want to go back to the real world. You do realise we know about those men you've killed. If you manage to escape, I hope you know there'll be an arrest warrant waiting for you. You've done enough for treason. That's very resourceful for someone your age. Yes, you could've been very useful to us if you'd been recruited properly."

"What are you talking about?" Carl said, deciding to play dumb.

"All I'm saying is that if you leave, you'll find yourself detained at Her Majesty's Pleasure for the rest of your life. Oh, you can be sure of that. Wouldn't you rather stay here? It's much nicer than a prison cell," Number Two said. "I've got a deal for you. Would you consider a deal? Just humour me a moment."

Carl felt he was between a rock and a hard place. He'd be stuck in a prison no matter where he was. "What kind of deal?"

"I've got a little job for you. You realise it's not you we really care about. Number Ten is being very stubborn, but he trusts you. If you can get him to tell you everything, I'll make sure that arrest warrant is destroyed. All the evidence, gone. I might even let you go if you cooperate. You've got a long life ahead of you. Do you really want to waste it stuck in prison for the rest of your life?" Number Two said.

Number Two offered his hand. Carl realised he'd found his price. Apologising in his head to Tony for selling him out, he shook Number Two's hand. Number Two clapped him across the back, smiling happily.

"Excellent! Excellent. Now, why don't you go off to the caves like you wanted to? You might find some proper alcohol down there. I know you've missed that," Number Two said.

* * *

Tony was waiting in the caves, pacing agitatedly, when Carl arrived. Carl kept back a little, hoping he wasn't angry at him. Tony glared at him as he saw him approach.

"Where have you been? We had a plan," Tony growled, though Carl sensed he wasn't as angry as he sounded.

"I know. We still have a plan. Bev wanted to talk, that's all. I couldn't get away any sooner," Carl said.

Carl walked past him, heading deeper into the caves. He found the crates of beer against a far wall, and took out a couple of bottles. The lids twisted off easily, and Carl slipped one of the pills he'd been given into one of the bottles. They dissolved instantly. He offered the spiked bottle to Tony, who took it without concern.

"Fuck, is that real beer?" Tony said before downing half the bottle. "Fuck me, I haven't had a drink for months, it seems. How long have they been there?"

"Oh, they washed up a couple of days ago," Carl lied. The beer was good, though, and he almost felt normal again. He'd grown tired of the alcohol-free drinks the Village seemed to thrive on.

The drug didn't kick in til Tony'd had three spiked beers. The drunkeness helped. Sat on the crates at the back of the cave, Tony had stopped noticing what was being done to him. Carl asked him to tell him everything, and Tony complied readily. Carl didn't think he'd resist. Tony had lost the will to fight them anymore. He didn't say as much, but Carl could tell. There was no way to escape, so what was the point in holding on anymore? He'd accepted his fate. He'd stay there for the rest of his life. It was better than escaping and having to face all his enemies.

Carl left him down there, passed out. He walked back to his house with a heavy weight on his shoulders. He knew everything now. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, imagining another mark etching itself onto his arm with the others.

* * *

Carl went to see Number Two the next morning. Tony had been taken to hospital and was apparently being quite cooperative now. Number Two was very pleased by this, and he greeted Carl warmly.

"You have been such trouble for us, Number Eighteen, but you've come good in the end. He told you everything, didn't he? Naturally, we'll ask you to corroborate what he's telling us, but yes, I was confident we'd crack him in the end. My offer still stands, you know. The tapes, the warrant, they've all been destroyed. You're a free man, Number Eighteen, assuming you wish to return to the outside world. Are you sure you don't want to stay here? There's everything you need here," Number Two said.

"You can keep Tony, but the rest of us go free. That's my first and last offer. You have no reason to keep us here anymore. We've told you all we know. And get rid of all this stuff in my head. I don't want to remember that anymore," Carl said.

"Oh, yes, your memories will be taken care of. You don't think we'd just let you go and have you remembering the Village, do you? No, that would be far too dangerous, especially as you are not spies. But I have one more offer for you. I like you. I think you could be very useful to us outside," Number Two said.

"You want me to spy on my friends, is that it?" Carl said, reading between the lines.

"No, no, not spy. Just observe. Keep an eye on them, just to make sure their memories don't return. They wouldn't suspect someone like you, and it would save me sending men after you again. You'd only shoot them, wouldn't you?" Number Two gave him a particularly pointed look.

Carl shrugged. "Probably. Why do we need to be spied on out there anyway? Can't you just wipe our memories and send us back?"

"I could, yes, but I like you. You're a lot like Tony. You've got the same mettle he had. He was a great spy. Don't get me wrong, he did some great work, but he was too selfish. He was too easily corrupted. No, I think you would be different. Would you at least consider it? I'd advise you not to talk to the others about it. The less they know," Number Two said, leaving the last sentence unfinished.

Carl wasn't sure he wanted to get involved in the system that had brought him here. He felt that might just get him brought back here one day when he knew too much. After all, now that he knew everything Tony had been getting up to, he wasn't sure it was the life he wanted. Still, he promised he'd think about it, and Number Two seemed satisfied for the moment.

* * *

Ace woke up back in hospital. It took a while to realise he had been strapped down to the bed, leaving him unable to escape. He cried with frustration, desperate to leave the hospital and this strange Village. He gazed around him and found he was in a different ward. Was he even in the same hospital? He wasn't sure. He heard someone enter and turned to see a strange man walking towards him with an irritating grin on his face.

"Ahh, Forty Six! You've given us some trouble, miss, going out and escaping like that. You're not better yet. Won't you stay until you're well again? You'll love living here, I promise, but you need to get well first," the man said as he came and sat beside him.

"Who are you? I've met so many strange people here," Ace said, not recognising the face before him.

"I am Number Two, my girl, and I'm in charge here. Don't you remember?"

Ace struggled, upset by the misgendering. "I'm not a girl! Won't you all stop calling me a girl? I'm not a girl!"

Number Two seemed amused by this. "Yes, so you keep saying. What was it you said last time? That you'd tell us all we want to know if we let you be a boy? Well, Number Forty Six. We can do that, you know. If you are so convinced you are a boy, we can fix that. We can give you a male body. Would that help change your mind? We could free you from these horrid restraints. You don't want to be here any more, do you? Will you make a deal, Number Forty Six? I can make you happy again."

"I want to go home. Please let me go home. I'll tell you whatever you want, but don't call me a girl and let me go home. Please. That's all I'm asking," Ace said.

"It's a deal. You have my word," Number Two said.

Nothing more was said. Ace didn't want to believe it. It couldn't have been that easy. He lay back, wondering what on earth he'd just agreed to.

* * *

Number Two watched them being prepared to leave. They were unaware of what was being done to their minds. They were unconscious after all, but they lay there, ever so peacefully, as their memories were tampered with. Number Two could see their memories on the screen above him and he almost felt sad to be letting them go. He'd become quite fond of them while they'd been there. They still had most of their innocence, and it was rare anyone so young was brought to the Village. Number Two had never felt so invigorated before. But they were to be returned to the world again. Orders were orders, after all. They had no reason to keep them here now, and they would just be taking up room for more important prisoners if they stayed.

Bev didn't feel him touch his shoulder as he watched him lying there. Bev wouldn't remember him when they were done anyway. They were to be transferred immediately, back to where they came from. Number Two didn't often express much feeling for those under his care, but he had become quite fond of Bev, in his own way. But relationships were impossible, so he'd learnt not to think about it. It was only an intellectual exercise, after all. Relationships made one selfish, and that was not to be tolerated in the Village. That would be very unmutual indeed.

Ace was causing the most trouble. His memories were such a mess it was hard to cut them out neatly and replace them with the appropriate memories. In fact, it had proved nigh on impossible, so another strategy had to be devised to modify his memories in a different way so that he didn't remember the Village and everything that had happened as something real. His body had already been appropriately modified. He still had the same face, though. It could be potentially distressing enough to wake in a different body, even one you wanted, let alone with a face you didn't recognise. That had taken a lot of time to get right, that's for sure. The process wasn't entirely perfect, but they'd done a stirling job in making such a good copy.

Number Two went over to Carl and noticed the eighth mark had been tattooed with the others. Number Two almost hadn't done it, but he wanted to remind him how precarious a situation he was in. He would leave him with enough memories to know why they were there, but that was it. Carl needed to know enough to keep an eye on the others, and it would be easier to do that with more of his memory intact. He would not remember the Village; they had devised another scenario to implant in his mind that would work instead. No one outside must remember the Village, Number Two was quite clear about that.

* * *

Roy woke first for once. There was a strange pain in his back, and he forced his stiff body to turn over. It was only as he looked down at the ground that he realised how cold he was. His fingers were white and covered in mud, just like the rest of him was. He sat up and wondered where he was. What had happened anyway? How on earth had he ended up sleeping out in the open beside the road?

A mug of hot coffee appeared then, and Roy looked up to see Carl smiling at him. Roy wiped his hands clean before taking the mug, concentrating on holding it steady as his hands warmed up.

"Hey, Charlie, what-"

"The van broke down, remember? But it's all fixed now. We'll get going as soon as we can. At least we finished the tour this time," Carl said, crouching beside him.

"Oh, yeah, right. That's it," Roy said.

"Feel free to get out of those clothes when you're done. There's a town a few miles away. I thought we'd get some breakfast there," Carl said.

Roy nodded. Sounded good to him. He sat there and only then noticed the others asleep beside him. They, however, didn't look like they were covered in mud. They even had blankets and camping mattresses. Roy was slightly jealous. Carl provided coffee as they woke, and they all sat there quietly, vowing never to sleep out there again.

Half an hour later they were off, the van deciding to behave as they drove home to Birmingham. Roy sat in the back with their gear, fast asleep. Trevor and Ace, as far as Carl could tell, were also sleeping. Only Bev was still awake, taking the front passenger seat. It was enough to keep Carl awake as they drove home.

From time to time, Carl thought he saw someone he recognised, but he could never place them, and no name ever came to mind. At the small café where they had breakfast, there had been a waitress there who had looked oddly familiar, but Carl brushed it aside. No one else thought they recognised her so maybe it was just Carl.

Nothing more was said about it as they headed home. They dropped Bev off first, and Carl took the opportunity to wake the others. Ace hadn't appreciated being woken so soon, but didn't complain. He'd be home soon, and then he could sleep as long as he bloody liked. At least there was more room in the back, now that it wasn't full of drums. Ace leant against Trevor as they dozed off, fingers entwined.

* * *

The van felt very empty once Ace and Trevor and their gear was gone. Roy had shifted into the front, and he sat there, still half-asleep, as Carl drove them home. Carl watched him silently, wondering if he had some of the same memories floating into his head as he did. Numbers. There were numbers in his head, but he could find no meaning for them.

Roy didn't know anything about numbers when he'd asked, so Carl had dropped it. Leaving Roy in his mother's care, Carl drove home, left with his thoughts. He normally paid no attention to his neighbours either, but the man next door was out in the garden, pruning some roses, and he welcomed him back with a cheerful smile. There was something about him that Carl just couldn't place, so he let it slide. Maybe he didn't want to know.

He showered, getting rid of the grime and dirt from a long tour. It was only then that he noticed the marks on his arm. Eight small black lines in a neat arrangement, inked into his left forearm. He felt he should know what they meant, but no memory came to mind.

He didn't know until the next morning, when he woke with a start from a rather disturbing nightmare. The marks seemed to indicate people he'd betrayed, he remembered that much, but the rest of the details were lost to him. Whatever he'd done, it was a debt he needed to remind himself of so much he'd had it permamently marked into his skin.

He went out to collect the milk and his neighbour greeted him again, smiling in a most infuriating manner. Carl just numbly greeted him back, still adamant he looked familiar, but unable to place him. He heard a dog barking nearby, but when he looked, there was nothing there. He didn't remember any dogs living nearby, and no one appeared to be walking their dogs that morning either. He decided it was better to ignore things that made no sense and went back inside to make some coffee.

* * *

Roy slept late. He always slept late after a tour. His body was so exhausted, he didn't want to move for a week. He'd had strange dreams, but that was hardly an unusual occurrence, and he'd learnt to accept them as part of his strange imagination. Strange coastal villages with giant chess pieces and moons made of balloons were not that weird. He'd had weirder dreams, that's for sure. Though none had involved a lighthouse that talked to him yet. First time for everything, Roy decided.

He noticed a piece of paper on his bedside table. He'd written down a series of numbers during the night, but he couldn't remember what they meant anymore. He pushed the thought aside as he went down to a very late breakfast.

* * *

Bev hadn't dreamt, or if he had, he'd forgotten them by the morning. He'd slept a hell of a lot better than he had the night before, and it was nice being home. His dog, Remus, greeted him happily, jumping on the bed as he woke up. Remus always missed him when he was away, and he missed taking him for a walk every morning.

Out in the cold streets, Remus walking happily beside him, Bev met few people that morning. The one he remembered the most was a woman who looked a lot like his mother. She was walking down the other side of the street, but she didn't see him. The thought didn't linger as he walked on, happy to be back home again.

* * *

Ace hadn't slept so well for what seemed like years. He woke with a clear mind, and it took a while to realise he hadn't actually had any nightmares. He sat up. Trevor was still sleeping beside him, like he should be. A small kitten appeared to be sleeping on the bed between them. The kitten woke with Ace's movements, and with some encouragement, made its way across the very big bed towards him. Ace picked the cat up, and marvelled at the feeling of having something so small and delicate in his hands. Holding it against his chest, the kitten was soon drifting off to sleep again.

As he sat there, he realised he had no disturbing thoughts in his mind at all. There were no voices. No nightmares. No terrifying delusions. He felt... normal, assuming that's what normal felt like. He couldn't really remember what 'normal' was anymore. He'd got so used to his craziness, he'd just assumed it was how he would always be. He wasn't even sure why he felt he should be crazy anyway. He had no memory of being crazy. And yet...

As he lay there, he realised his body felt, well, different. Was it different? He wasn't sure. Leaving the kitten to sleep beside him, he unbuttoned his shirt and ran his hands over his flat chest. His hands moved down towards his groin, and he was pleasantly surprised and reassured by what he felt down there. As he touched himself, he began to feel aroused, and it was as familar as it was strange. He shifted as he pulled his pants down, proving to himself that he hadn't just been imagining having a cock. He really did have a penis, and it was getting slowly harder as he played with it. He smiled. He had no idea how this had happened, or why he felt he should have any other kind of body than the one he had right then, but he smiled anyway.

Trevor woke then, the cat having moved over to sleep on his chest. After shifting the cat out of the way and exchanging a soft kiss, Trevor moved close to him, his hands joining his as he stroked him. Ace was so very horny then, and Trevor was willing. Ace had never enjoyed sex as much as he had at that moment, holding Trevor close as he thrust inside him.

Everything felt perfect. Ace was in love with the way Trevor breathed. They switched positions so Trevor was facing him. Ace had never seen him look so beautiful, his eyes closed, his body wracked with pleasure. Ace leant over and kissed him. Slowing down a little, Trevor kissed him back. The pleasure that flooded his body as he came was the most intense sensation he'd ever felt. He lay on top of Trevor, his mind blank, unable, unwilling, to think.

"Is that what sex feels like? Like it's just erased all your memories?" Ace murmured.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what it feels like," Trevor breathed.

Ace didn't quite know how to answer that. He decided he didn't care.

* * *

The small round balloon that was caught in the fountain in his back yard had appeared out of nowhere. Number Two knew, subconsciously, what it represented, and he kept away from it. It seemed like a small round white balloon that had got caught in the carvings, but Number Two didn't dare investigate. He wasn't sure why he kept thinking of himself as a number either, but he couldn't quite remember his name anymore, and the one he'd come up with, just so no one thought he was weird, wasn't really his either.

He watched Carl with envy. Carl didn't remember anything. Number Two, to a certain extent, didn't remember anything either. But his subconscious did, and he was too afraid of what it might tell him if he asked, so he never bothered.

There was a dog barking in his backyard again, but Number Two ignored it. He was sure one of his neighbours had a dog. It was probably their dog slipping under the fence again. He laughed at the suggestion, imagining the little terrier running around his backyard, terrorising the daisies. Yes, that's probably what it was. A dog running amongst the daisies. Nothing to worry about at all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Illusion Of Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509764) by [Sashataakheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru)




End file.
